


Letting Go

by NCISVU



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCISVU/pseuds/NCISVU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jethro and Tony think they have the perfect relationship. They aren’t committed enough to each other to get hurt if things fall apart but they are committed enough to no longer see other people. It’s the perfect arrangement. That is, until a secret from Tony’s past is revealed. Do they risk heartache, go all in and face the issue head on or will one or both of them run and hide? See inside for notes & warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Insubordination

**Author's Note:**

> Dark and angsty. Past sexual abuse of one of the show's main characters (when they were a minor), which might get a little graphic at times. Set between seasons 2 and 3, post-Kate but pre-Ziva.
> 
> This is very much a WIP. I’ll be posting it chapter by chapter as I get it written but I can’t promise regular weekly updates. All I can promise is that the story WILL be finished. I’m hoping a little feedback from you guys as I write will be the motivation I need to start cranking out chapter fics again.

Despite the incessant throbbing in his own dick, Jethro paused for a moment to take in the sight of Tony all stretched out in the bed, waiting for him. At thirty one years old the man had never been in better shape and even if he played at being immature, Jethro knew better. Tony had the maturity of someone twice his age which was even sexier than chiseled abs framed by the V that led down to the long, weighty cock, already standing at attention. Jethro’s fingers grazed across Tony’s muscled thigh and he watched as it quivered under his touch.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered quietly, too caught up in the moment to be his usual, demanding self.

“I am,” Tony replied.

“Wider,” Jethro prompted, “keep going.” His fingers danced along Tony’s inner thighs, coming teasingly close to his ball sac before traveling back down again, completely ignoring what he wanted to touch the most.

“I can’t,” Tony whimpered. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead in the dull light of the setting sun.

“Yes you can,” Jethro soothed. He tugged Tony towards him and eased his legs back, pulling his hips in the air slightly and allowing him to open himself up even more. “There ya go,” he praised. “We’ll work on that.” His hands followed his eyes, roaming the body all laid in front of him. “Comfortable?”

“I am, actually,” Tony admitted. His legs were spread so wide he was practically doing the splits but the angle Jethro had moved his body to and some intensive stretching at the gym over the past several months kept the discomfort away. Under normal circumstances Tony would’ve felt vulnerable and exposed and it would’ve been a big turn off for him but with Leroy Jethro Gibbs kneeling over him, studying every inch of his body, the vulnerability and exposure couldn’t have been more exciting or a bigger turn on. “Fuck me,” he begged in a throaty whisper, trailing a single finger down the line that separated the two sides of Jethro’s six pack abs.

“I’m not ready yet.”

The feral smile on Jethro’s face told Tony he was in for a wild ride and sure enough, in no time at all Jethro’s head disappeared between Tony’s legs and he skillfully used his tongue and mouth to drive Tony to the brink before backing off and letting him cool down so he could do it all over again. He turned his body around, putting them in the 69 position and straddled Tony’s head, grunting in ecstasy when Tony opened his mouth and swallowed him whole.

With every nerve ending firing all at once, Jethro pulled himself out of the vacuum grip Tony’s mouth had on his cock and released Tony from his mouth. He turned once again, stealing a kiss as he got into position, desperate for a taste of himself on his lover and to share a taste of Tony with him. He reached for his dick, glistening with Tony’s saliva, and lined himself up. Tony’s legs were still spread as wide as possible on each side of him, his cock still standing at attention and his ball sac just loose enough to tell Jethro there was time to explore, to touch, to kiss and play.

Impatient, Tony reached between their bodies and guided Jethro in. The anticipation was getting to be too much. He was desperate for the sense of fullness, the feeling of completion their joined bodies always gave him. His hand fell away as Jethro breached his hole and Jethro instinctively buried himself balls deep inside Tony’s welcoming body.

Slow and steady quickly gave way to frantic and desperate, neither man able to get enough of the other one. A battle for dominance had them rolling around, fighting for control; anxious for relief but desperate to hold on at the same time. The struggle ended with Tony on all fours, clawing at the sheets and grunting out incoherent babblings as his cock emptied itself onto the bed below without his permission, Jethro literally fucking the cum right out of him. Jethro followed with a curse and a grunt of his own when he was sure his lover was fully sated.

Breathing heavy and with sore, achy muscles from the extensive workout, both collapsed onto the bed, letting their bodies regain control.

“I’m in the wet spot,” Tony mumbled into the pillow. His voice was slightly stressed from the weight of Jethro’s body on top of his but it was a position he’d always felt safe and secure in.

“You’re the one that laid in it,” Jethro teased. He captured the tip of Tony’s earlobe between his teeth and sucked gently on it making Tony squirm at the ticklish sensation even as a spark of electricity shot through his body.

“You staying?” Tony murmured, still caught up in the pure bliss of the moment.

“Not tonight,” Jethro answered. He eased out of Tony and rolled over beside him, giving them both an opportunity to stretch and catch their breath. “I have a project I’m trying to finish up.”

The truth was they very rarely spent an entire night together. One of them would usually end up at the other’s place each evening or arrive early in the morning to spend some time together intimately before work but fear of screwing up the best thing that had happened to them kept them from getting too close; too invested in the other one. Ducky had chastised them with sayings like _‘that’s no way to love’_ and _‘you’d both be better off if you were all in’_ and Abby just plain didn’t understand their almost standoffish behavior after the day she’d caught them with their pants around their ankles in her ballistics lab but it made sense to Jethro and Tony and they weren’t in any hurry to change it.

Tony pushed himself up onto his side and let his fingers play in the coarse hairs spattered across his lover’s chest. He loved the calm, quiet moments they shared after their lovemaking almost as much as he loved making love to the man. It was a state very few people ever got to see Jethro in.

After a few quiet moments, Jethro took Tony’s hand and rested it over his heart with his hand on top of Tony’s. “Am I gonna see you in the morning?”

“Depends on if my dick or my alarm clock wakes me up,” Tony answered with a soft smile. If his dick woke him up he headed to Jethro’s, if it was his alarm clock he headed to work.

One corner of Jethro’s mouth curved up into one of his trademark smirks. His tongue poked out and wet his lips before he leaned over and pressed his lips to Tony’s. Tony let his hand trail across Jethro’s chest, around to his back and glide over his ass as the man rolled over and climbed out of bed.

“You got any plans tonight?” Jethro asked as he headed for the bathroom.

“I’ve got a date with my DVR,” Tony answered. “I need to watch some stuff so I can delete it and make room for more stuff. It’s a vicious cycle.”

Jethro returned, a washcloth in one hand cleaning his dick and a lighthearted look on his face. Few people truly appreciated Tony’s humor but he tried to make sure he was always one of those people. “Pretty ballsy telling your boyfriend about your date with someone else.”

“I’m a ballsy kind of guy.”

“Yeah,” Jethro agreed, his eyes moving to Tony’s balls, “yeah, you are.” He tossed the washcloth to Tony so he could clean himself up then started collecting his clothes which had been trailed through the apartment. Once he was dressed a still naked Tony joined him at the front door and the two shared one more kiss before he left.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

“I take it by that ridiculous grin on your face you had a good night last night?” Tim teased lightly from across the bullpen.

“I’m a DiNozzo,” Tony informed him, “DiNozzo’s rarely have an off night and last night was certainly no exception.”

“You make me sick,” Tim said with mock disgust.

“I think jealous would be a more accurate way to describe what you’re feeling. You really should let me be your wingman. I can help you, McLoveless.”

“That’s a scary thought.” Tim’s gaze shifted to nothing in particular, as if he were considering the option and every way it could go wrong.

“No time for that now,” Gibbs commented as he strolled through the bullpen, over to his desk. “Someone left a mess for us to clean up at Rock Creek Park. Dead guy and an injured Marine.”

“The Marine kill our dead guy or were they both attacked by a third party?” Tony asked, grabbing his backpack from behind his desk.

“We’ll find out when we get there,” Gibbs answered.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

A handful of gawkers had already gathered at the crime scene and more were filtering in, curious about what had happened. Gibbs disappeared towards the uniforms for a briefing, leaving Tony and Tim to get the gear out of the truck.

“Do you ever get used to it?” Tim asked, peeking around the van door at the crowd of people.

“Being the center of attention?” Tony joked. “Having your own version of paparazzi follow you around?”

“I was being serious, DiNozzo,” Tim said with a playful roll of his eyes.

Tony peeked around the door on his side of the truck then looked back at Tim. “Part of making it in our profession is learning to work with an audience, Probie,” he replied. “Just ignore ‘em and focus on what you’ve gotta do. ‘kay?”

“Got it,” Tim said.

The two grabbed the gear and equipment they would need to process the crime scene and headed off to find Gibbs just as Ducky was pulling up in the ME van. Jimmy had been given a few days off to study for the test he had to pass that would allow him to start advancing in his profession.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony was busy photographing the crime scene while their injured Marine was being looked at by the paramedics when he got the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. He did his best to shrug it off, attempting to follow the advice he’d just given Tim, but the feeling only grew stronger as it followed him. He paused, stood up tall and carefully scanned the crowd of onlookers for anyone who looked out of place. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him until he looked closer and found a set of eyes focused solely on him. Tony had the man’s undivided attention and even got a disturbing smile out of him when their eyes met.

Stone faced and unrelenting Tony continued staring at the man until he realized who it was that he was staring at. It had taken a moment to place the face he hadn’t seen since childhood but as soon as his brain made the connection his stomach dropped and he thought he might be sick.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs barked.

“Boss,” Tony said, turning a little too quickly and ending up dizzy.

“Problem?”

“Uh, no, Boss,” Tony lied, swallowing hard. He hoped his face didn’t reflect how he felt.

“Our vic’s name is Simon Harding,” Tim said, joining the group. “Originally from New York City, he moved here five years ago and opened a restaurant in downtown DC. The business has been struggling but the guy’s got a hefty nest egg stashed away. I can’t find any connection to our Marine. Staff Sergeant Christopher Tatum spent his summers in New York City as a teenager but other than that they have nothing in common.”

Tony’s eyes grew wide as he listened to the familiar names his colleague was spouting off. His stomach dropped lower and lower, his fingers grew icy and all the blood drained from his face as a memory from childhood was suddenly and violently at the forefront of his mind—something he’d never confronted; something he never wanted to think about again.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, oblivious to his senior field agent’s sudden change in demeanor, “talk to our vic. McGee—”

“No,” Tony interrupted.

Gibbs stopped, turned and got right in Tony’s face. “Excuse me?”

“No,” Tony said shaking his head.

Tim watched in horror and complete shock and did the only thing he could think to do—try to save Tony from their boss’s wrath. “Uhh, I can talk to Tatum,” he offered.

Gibbs turned to face Tim, unsure how to react to Tony’s sudden disregard for his orders or what to think of it. When he turned back around again Tony was gone, the camera he’d been snapping pictures with on the ground where he’d been only moments earlier.


	2. One Lie, Two Lies, Three Lies, Four…

Tony was well aware his rapidly jiggling foot was vibrating the entire car and betraying the calm outward appearance he liked to have in front of his coworkers but no matter how hard he tried—and boy was he trying—he couldn’t calm the nervous energy and still his leg. Thankfully, Jimmy was gracious enough to not say anything, even though Tony was certain his little gremlin brain was whirring with questions about why Tony had called and practically begged him to come to the crime scene and pick him up and what had him so on edge.

“You sure you want me to drop you off at NCIS, Tony?” Jimmy asked cautiously. “We could go back to my place for a while. I could use a break from studying.” _And you don’t look like you’re in any condition to work,_ he added silently. Jimmy knew Tony wouldn’t want the others to see him in the state he was in and he really wanted to protect Tony but Tony had to be willing to let him.

All the adrenaline coursing through Tony’s veins had his brain in overdrive and seemed to allow him to process thoughts much quicker. He considered Jimmy’s offer for a few seconds before nodding his head almost as manically as he was shaking his leg. “That sounds great, Gremlin,” he answered. “Let’s go back to your place.”

“You know you can talk to me, right, Tony?” Jimmy asked.

“I know,” Tony answered.

“’cause you’re kinda freakin’ me out right now, man. What’s going on?”

Tony plastered an innocent look on his face and shrugged. “Nothing’s going on. Just overworked and underpaid like everybody else. I guess it’s just getting to me today. No big deal. I’m fine and don’t you dare go calling Gibbs and telling him otherwise. In fact, you have to promise me you won’t call Gibbs.”

Jimmy watched his friend’s unusual behavior out of the corner of his eye while he waited for the red light to change to green. It was very obvious that Tony needed help, and more help than Jimmy could give him at that, but Jimmy wasn’t the type to betray a friend’s trust, especially if that friend was Tony. Tony had been a great friend to him ever since he’d started at NCIS.

“Maybe I should just let him know you’re with me and you’re okay,” Jimmy suggested. “He’d gonna worry when he realizes you’re not at the crime scene anymore.”

“No, Palmer,” Tony said firmly. “Do not. Call. Gibbs.”

“Alright,” Jimmy reluctantly agreed.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“I won’t call Gibbs,” Jimmy said, and he meant it. Ducky, on the other hand, would be receiving a call as soon as Jimmy got somewhere a little more private.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Gibbs waited until they were done processing the crime scene before sending Tim back to headquarters in the truck and turning his attention to Tony. He’d assumed Tony just needed some time to himself and would come wandering back eventually but it had been over an hour and there was still no sign of him. The lead agent was hoping some time alone with Tony on the ride back would give him a chance to get to the bottom of whatever was going but first he had to find him.

Tony wasn’t taking his calls and he wasn’t returning any messages which worried Gibbs on a whole new level. Tony knew how rare it was for him to actually leave a message and he’d left multiple messages over the course of the morning; everything from angry ‘where the hell are you?’ messages to more subdued ‘I’m worried about you, T. Call me. Please.’ messages but Tony was still in radio silence.

He decided against leaving another message when he saw Ducky approaching. “You good, Duck?” he asked, flipping his phone closed and returning it to his belt.

“I’m fine, Jethro,” Ducky answered warmly. “I have everything I need. It would appear, however, that Anthony is not. I just got off the phone with Mr. Palmer. Anthony’s with him.”

“Palmer? Isn’t he home studying?”

“He was until he got a call from Tony begging to be picked up.”

“Begging?” The whole situation was getting weirder and weirder and Gibbs didn’t like it one bit. “Why would Tony beg to be picked up from a crime scene? Why would he leave in the first place? And why the hell didn’t he tell me?”

“I don’t have any answers for you beyond what I already told you, Jethro,” Ducky replied. “All Jimmy said was that Anthony seems to be quite upset and that he made him promise not to call you, which I’m assuming is the reason I got a call. Jimmy knew that I would tell you.”

Gibbs tried to hide the look of hurt at Tony’s attempt to shut him out of the situation and tried to keep the anger from boiling over at the same time. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to go find Tony and demand answers or back off and give him the space he obviously needed to work through whatever the hell it was he needed to work through. “Where are they?” he asked.

“They’re at Mr. Palmer’s apartment but may I give you some advice, Jethro?”

Gibbs grunted and nodded.

“Don’t go over there and confront the boy when you’re angry. That won’t get you the answers you desire and it won’t help the situation at all.”

“Why’d he go to Palmer instead of me, Duck?” Gibbs asked, calming slightly.

Ducky knew how much it pained Gibbs to let go of his stubborn nature and ask him that question. The man wasn’t open when it came to relationships and he never asked for advice and even though Ducky felt honored that Gibbs had asked him, he wasn’t going to take it easy on him. “Possibly for the same reason you sought solace with bourbon and boatbuilding in your basement during your last three marriages.”

“That was different, Ducky. None of my wives understood anything about me. They weren’t there for me. I wasn’t there for them either but…” he let his voice trail off and ended with a shrug of his shoulders and a sour look on his face.

“And are you there for Anthony?” Ducky asked pointedly. “With your quick rolls in the hay and even quicker disappearing acts?” Pain was replaced by anger on Gibbs’ face but Ducky kept going. “That’s what I was talking about when I said you need to be all in. You and Anthony treat each other like one night stands and you don’t talk to your one night stand about important issues. You don’t let them in. You don’t show them the real you, Jethro.”

“No,” Gibbs objected, “Tony and I aren’t like that. This is different.”

“Is it?” Ducky asked. He favored Gibbs with a questioning look before turning and heading back towards the van, leaving Gibbs alone to ponder what he’d said.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

“We have to go,” Tony demanded. He was looming over Jimmy and looking as manic as ever. He’d been pacing the living room ever since they’d arrived, a clear contradiction to the ‘I’m fine’ he’d told Jimmy in the car.

“Huh?” Tony had changed his mind about what he wanted so many times that Jimmy was struggling to keep up. He was growing more and more concerned by the moment. They hadn’t been at his place very long and Tony hadn’t relaxed at all.

“Take me back to NCIS!” Tony snapped.

“Alright,” Jimmy said calmly. “Just let me get my keys and we’ll go.”

“We have to make a quick stop on the way,” Tony grunted.

He was out the door and down the hall before Jimmy could even get his shoes on but Jimmy, patient as ever, slipped his feet into his shoes and hurried off after Tony with a smile on his face and concern in his eyes.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Abby was knee deep in evidence from three other cases when Gibbs and Tim arrived with two more boxes to add to her growing inventory. Desperate to keep up, Abby quickly scribbled her name to the evidence log and was just getting ready to get started when she realized something was off. _Gibbs_ and Tim were standing in her lab holding boxes of evidence. Gibbs hardly ever delivered evidence. Where was Tony? He never passed up an opportunity to come down and see her so if he wasn’t there, something must be wrong.

She pointed her remote control over her shoulder and silenced her music, worry etching itself in her expression as her mind raced with every possible horrible thing that could’ve happened to Tony. “Where’s Tony?” She was almost afraid to ask but not knowing would be worse. “Gibbs?” One look at him and it was obvious she wasn’t going to get any answers out of him. That either meant everything was fine and Gibbs was just annoyed with Tony or something so horrible had happened that Gibbs couldn’t bear to talk about it. She turned her attention to McGee. “Timmy?”

“We don’t know,” Tim answered. “He walked away from the crime scene this morning and we haven’t seen him since.”

“What?!” Abby shrieked. “That’s totally not like him! Something must be wrong. You guys just left him there? What if he was kidnapped? Or got lost? Or hurt? What if he’s all alone out there somewhere dying?”

“DiNozzo’s with Palmer,” Gibbs said, cutting Abby off before she could get too out of control with theories. “Focus on the case, both of you. Abs, call when you get something. McGee, you’re with me.”

“But—”

“Ah-ah,” Gibbs interjected, holding up a single finger to silence the forensic scientist. He leaned in and planted a quick kiss on Abby’s cheek in a last ditch effort to calm her before turning and heading towards the elevator with McGee in tow. Tony not being there felt like his fault and Abby’s questions felt like his failure being rubbed in. He had no answers to give them so there was no point in standing around speculating.

“Boss?” Tim’s voice was almost a hoarse whisper but he spoke with as much confidence as he could muster. It was his first time having to deal with Gibbs alone. Tony was always there and he always knew how to handle the man.

“Call Metro,” Gibbs said, “make sure they’re bringing Tatum here when he’s released from the hospital, then get started on backgrounds.”

“Yes, Boss.”

The elevator dinged and the two stepped out into the squad room. Gibbs had been hoping for two minutes to himself to wrap his head around the situation but seeing the director standing by his desk told him that wasn’t going to happen.

“Jethro,” Tom Morrow called when he saw him approaching, “I hear you left this morning with two agents and only returned with one. Where’s Agent DiNozzo?”

“Dentist appointment,” Gibbs lied flawlessly.

“Must’ve forgotten to submit his time off paperwork again,” Morrow said.

Gibbs gave a slight nod of his head but didn’t offer any more details. “You mind?” he asked. “I gotta hit the head.”

“Sure,” Morrow said. He nodded formally to McGee as he passed by the junior agent’s desk on the way to elevator. Before he could push the button, the elevator dinged and Tony stepped off with a smile as bright as ever, carrying two boxes of pizza. “Everything must’ve gone well at the dentist,” the director said, glancing at the pizza.

“Huh?” Tony asked.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs barked, before he had a chance to blow the lie.

“Uh, gotta go,” Tony told the director before scurrying over to where Gibbs was in the middle of the bullpen.

Gibbs waited until the elevator door closed with the director inside before getting right up in Tony’s face and grinding out, “Where have you been?” with barely controlled anger.

Tony’s smile didn’t falter as he held up the pizza boxes. “I thought I’d get lunch for everyone,” he answered. “Seems like it might be a long day and my brain works better on a full stomach.”

Gibbs took the pizza boxes out of Tony’s hand and tossed them onto his desk before crooking a finger at Tony and heading off towards the back elevator.

“What the hell is going on with you today?” he asked. “Where have you been?”

“I told you,” Tony answered, still playing dumb, “getting lunch.”

“That’s not gonna fly with me,” Gibbs ground out angrily before raising his voice even more. “I want the truth!”

Despite the anger radiating off of Gibbs and being in such close proximity with no place to run or hide, Tony laughed in response the man’s question. “That _is_ the truth, Boss.”

“Then don’t talk to me as your boss,” Jethro pleaded, desperate to understand. “Talk to me as Jethro. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Tony insisted. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

The anger lines in Gibbs’ face deepened and he got right in Tony’s face again. “I’m referring to your refusal to question our victim. I’m referring to you walking away from our crime scene without a word to anyone. I’m referring to you ignoring my calls!”

Each sentence grew louder in volume but instead of standing strong in front of Gibbs like Tony had always done in the past he started shrinking back into himself more and more. The strange behavior only confused Gibbs more. Why wasn’t Tony standing up to him? Where were the quips and spark and fight that made up Tony’s personality? He almost looked scared and it was more than a little unsettling. Gibbs never imagined he’d be on the receiving end of that look. Why all the lies? When had they started lying to each other? And why, all of a sudden, wouldn’t Tony talk to him? He’d been fine the night before. Jethro was sure of it and he’d been his usual goofy self in the bullpen that morning but now he was disappearing from crime scenes, lying and looking like a loud noise might send him running and screaming in the opposite direction.

It appeared the crime that had happened at Rock Creek Park that morning wasn’t the only mystery Gibbs had to solve. Another one had just landed on his plate and Tony was making it clear that he was really going to have to dig for any clues.


	3. Human Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** There's some non-consensual activity in this chapter. This is where things take a dark turn.

It had been a long day already and it was barely half over. Gibbs had gone for coffee after his chat with Tony in the elevator and the more time he had to himself to think, the more upset he was over the whole situation—Tony going to Jimmy instead of coming to him, the mounting lies and Ducky’s ‘one night stand’ comment. That was the one that had him most upset. In fact, he was fuming. He and Tony did  _not_ treat each other like one night stands; they meant more to each other than that. So what if they weren’t in an overly romantic, lovey dovey relationship where they were constantly hanging all over each other? That wasn’t what was important to them. It wasn’t what made their relationship work. He would show them. He would show them all.

He made his way into the bullpen with an even larger than normal cup of coffee in his hand and a stride that lacked his normal sense of purpose because despite all the time he’d spent telling himself how strong his relationship with Tony was, doubt was starting to creep in. Tony running to Palmer and then lying to his face had sent a perfectly clear message.

“What’s funny, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, pausing between his agents’ desks. The immature giggles coming from Tony’s side of the bullpen and the annoyed look on McGee’s face told him things hadn’t been going well.

“Nothing, Boss,” Tony answered. “I was just telling McHumorless a joke but he didn’t get it.”

Gibbs stared at Tony for a moment, trying to get a handle on the building irritation before he did something he regretted, then turned and walked over to Tim’s desk. “Where’re we at with the case, McGee?”

Tim shot a quick, panicked glance over to Tony before turning his attention to their boss. Tony was not acting like himself at all; anyone could see that. It was almost like he was trying too hard to be normal and failing miserably at it while denying anything was out of the ordinary. That left the bulk of the weight of the investigation on Tim’s shoulders which meant Gibbs was asking him—Timothy McGee, _Probie_ —about the case. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. _You can do this,_ he told himself as he took a slow, deep breath.

“Not much in Tatum’s file,” he answered. “He’s pretty unremarkable for a Marine. Did a nine month tour in Afghanistan last year. No marks on his record, good or bad. Uh, he um,” Tim paused and made eye contact with Gibbs, “I couldn’t find much of anything, Boss,” he said as if he’d done something wrong.

“There’s not always something to find, McGee,” Gibbs told him with unexpected patience. “Where is he now?”

“Still at the hospital.” A question he actually had the answer to felt like a pretty rewarding victory to Tim. “They’re doing a twenty four hour psych hold on him. The Metro officer I talked to said he didn’t think Tatum was faking it. I guess the guy was trying to convince everyone he was okay but some of the things he was saying set off alarm bells and his vitals were outta whack enough to concern the doctors. I was gonna go relieve Metro, watch Tatum tonight and bring him in when he’s released tomorrow.”

“Good,” Gibbs praised. His voice didn’t hold much emotion but a compliment was a compliment. “Don’t let him outta your sight, McGee. Take one of the probies along with you.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Once Tim had gathered his things and disappeared into the elevator, Gibbs moved over in front of Tony’s desk. He subtly looked around to make sure no one was listening before turning to Tony. “Cowboy steaks at my place tonight?” he offered.

“I’ll stop for beer on the way,” Tony replied with a smile. He really didn’t want to go, knowing it was very likely that Gibbs planned on grilling him with more questions, but turning down the offer would be suspicious and his behavior had been suspicious enough for one day. Luckily he knew a surefire way to distract his lover if he started getting too curious.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony headed up Jethro’s front walkway with a six pack of beer in one hand and his other hand rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home, fall into bed and sleep until he could wake up and find out everything that had happened earlier that day had just been a bad dream—a really, really bad dream, but having dinner with Jethro was an important part of keeping up appearances and he actually really did want to spend time with the man. He just didn’t want to answer any questions.

“Hell-o,” he singsonged as he stepped through the front door. “Are you decent?”

“I’m not the one that likes to walk around naked,” Jethro replied with humor in his voice, and just like that their evening started off with their normal banter, just like every other evening they spent together.

Tony started humming and doing a provocative dance, pulling his shirt up and revealing his tanned chest while he gyrated his hips in a way that was anything but innocent. Jethro eyed Tony hungrily before shaking his head in amusement and turning back to the steaks cooking in the fireplace.

“I went with cherry wheat beer this time,” Tony said, stopping the dancing and kicking off his flip flops. “I was in the mood for something sweet. Hope you don’t mind?”

“As long as it’s beer,” Jethro said. “You go home and change?” The suit he’d been wearing all day had been replaced by a white undershirt and fitted jeans and his socks had come off.

“Changed at the office,” Tony said with a smile. “Thought I’d slip into something a little more comfortable. Do you approve?”

“You know I do,” Jethro said. Tony knew what it did to him when he walked around barefoot with jeans on. The formfitting white undershirt added to the look but if it came off too he was really going to be in trouble.

Originally he’d planned on confronting Tony, hoping the privacy of his home would give him the freedom to open up but apparently Tony had anticipated his move and was already one move ahead in their subliminal chess game. If Jethro wanted any chance at pulling off the win, he was going to have to stay focused and play harder than he’d ever played before.

But damn Tony looked good. How was he supposed to stay focused when the man showed up looking like that?

“So how do you know Tatum?” Jethro asked as he plated up the steaks and delivered them to the coffee table with the beers Tony was in the process of opening. Maybe if he started asking questions right away he could keep them on track and get ahead in the game.

“Who?”

“The Staff Sergeant at the crime scene today.” He knew Tony was buying time by playing dumb but he decided to let him get away with it.

“I don’t know him,” Tony replied. “Why would you think that?”

“Maybe because you disappeared when I sent you to question him.”

“I didn’t disappear. I went to get lunch. I was hungry.”

“Looks like you lost your appetite,” Jethro pointed out. “You always devour my steak. Should I be worried?”

Tony smiled and shrugged. “Guess I’d just rather eat something else tonight.” The devious smile on his face grew as his hand slid over into Jethro’s lap.

“Fuck,” Jethro moaned quietly.

“We can do that too,” Tony replied in a whisper. He lowered the zipper on Jethro’s pants and slipped his hand into the opening in the man’s boxers.

Jethro knew he should stop Tony and they should spend the evening talking but Tony’s hand was so warm and so tight around his cock and it felt so, so good. Maybe Tony just needed some semblance of normalcy. Maybe he was just having an off day and a good fuck would bring him back around. Besides, they could always talk afterwards.

His dick grew in Tony’s hand as it was tugged on and twisted and he was soon pushing gently on the back of Tony’s head, urging him to kiss his growing erection. Tony obliged happily and Jethro told him how beautiful his mouth was while rocking his hips and thoroughly fucking his mouth. Tony relaxed the muscles in his throat and let his lover push all the way inside him, swallowing around him when he could, sucking hard against him and tonguing him whenever he pulled out.

Jethro waited until he was on the brink before pulling out and ordering Tony to stand. “Keep your jeans on,” he said as he tugged the man’s shirt over his head. He moved Tony over to the side of the couch, moved in behind him and lowered his jeans just enough to expose his ass. “Bend over,” he said, nipping at Tony’s ear.

Tony obeyed as he listened to zipper on Jethro’s pants being lowered and soon felt a couple long, slender fingers opening him up before he was filled with Jethro’s dick. He closed his eyes and let the events of the day fade, focusing solely on getting caught up in the moment. “Touch me.”

Jethro reached around and wrapped a strong hand around Tony’s dick, delivering firm strokes while he pounded into him. Both moved in tandem until Tony was crying out in ecstasy and Jethro’s breathing changed, signaling he’d reached completion as well.

“Shoulda put a towel down or something,” Tony panted, staring at the thick, white lines on the arm of the couch.

“Don’t care about the couch,” Jethro replied, his grip still firm on Tony’s hips.

Tony sighed happily as Jethro rocked their bodies back and forth until he went soft and slipped out. They got themselves and the couch cleaned up and the next thing Jethro knew, Tony was putting his flip flops on.

“Another date with your DVR?” Jethro asked. He wanted to say something else; to try to stop Tony and find a way to get him to stay but Tony was out the door with a lame excuse before he could object.

As he stood in the entryway listening to the sound of Tony’s car getting farther and farther away, he realized Ducky had been right all along, they were treating each other like one night stands, and the thought devastated him. Their night had consisted of a quick fuck and Tony taking off before any real conversation could be had and he had let Tony get away with it without any fight because it had been easier than confronting him. They never should’ve fucked in the first place. He’d known Tony was using that as a distraction and it had worked. When had he started thinking with his dick? When had he started taking the easy way out? The safe way? And when had he and Tony started walking on egg shells around each other?

Something had to change and fast.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony stepped through his front door, closed it, locked it and slid against it down to the floor, ending with his head between his legs and breathing heavy. He knew he’d dodged a bullet with Jethro that evening. Luckily using sex as a distraction had worked. He doubted it would again. In fact, Jethro was probably sitting at home realizing what had happened and kicking himself for letting him get away with it. Hopefully the man wouldn’t call. Tony would have to think hard about whether or not to answer the phone if he did.

“I saw you at the crime scene earlier, Anthony. You didn’t stay long.”

Tony’s eyes grew wide as a voice interrupted the silence of the dark apartment. His whole body started shaking as he scrambled to his feet. He knew that voice. It was a voice he’d never forget. It had haunted his dreams for a long time.

The lamp next to the couch came on and Tony found himself staring at the same face he’d seen in the crowd at Rock Creek Park that morning. The man stood and made his way over Tony and all Tony could do was watch. His feet felt like they were cemented to the ground and all his attention was focused on controlling his breathing, desperately trying to stop the full blown panic attack that was threatening.

“I’ve missed you, Sweet Boy,” the man said. He ran a hand down Tony’s chest before cupping his crotch and squeezing. “You look good.”

Tony closed his eyes as tightly as he could, trying to keep some semblance of control as he reverted back to a frightened thirteen year old boy.

“Such a good boy,” the man praised, just like he used to do when Tony was a teenager. “Unfortunately I can’t stay and play tonight.”

“I got too old for you a long time ago,” Tony choked out and immediately regretted opening his mouth. Not only had the hand on his crotch tightened to a painful grip, his quivering voice had given away the terror building inside him.

“I’ll be watching you,” the man said, his tone now threatening. “I’d hate for something bad to happen to Gibbs. I get the impression you’re pretty close. Do you understand, Sweet Anthony?”

Tony could only nod as he nearly choked on the bile rising in his throat at hearing the nickname he’d been given so long ago by the monster who’d found him once again. He somehow managed to get his legs to work again so he could step aside and let the man leave.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Gibbs was well aware of the Director’s presence up on the catwalk and that the man had been peering down at them all morning. He was also aware Tony’s behavior was exponentially more disturbed than it had been the day before. Apparently ignoring the problem and pretending like it wasn’t there hadn’t helped anything. No big surprise there but he’d been hopeful. A long night of thinking while working on his boat had led him to the conclusion that it was getting to the point where he—the team leader—was going to have to do something about it and his personal relationship with Tony couldn’t get in the way. The events of the morning had confirmed the decision. Half the building was whispering about the situation and the director had had eyes on them all morning.

Just before lunch he found himself in the man’s upstairs office, sitting in an oversized chair in front of a ridiculously large desk. “What’s going on with your team?” Morrow asked.

“My team?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jethro. It doesn’t suit you. I can’t prove anything but I’m fairly certain Tony didn’t have a dentist appointment yesterday and today half the building’s whispering about his strange behavior. What’s going on with your boy?”

“He’s not my boy,” Gibbs said pointedly, “he’s an NCIS special agent and he’s fine.”

“Your eyesight’s worse than I thought,” Morrow responded. “You find out what’s going on with him or I will and I’m sure neither of you would like that.”

Gibbs fixed the man with a hard glare and sat silently while he waited to be dismissed. Morrow’s look was just as stubborn before he finally said the word and Gibbs got up and left. He headed straight for the elevator and pushed the emergency stop button as soon it started going down. It was definitely time for him to step in and he had to be firm this time. He couldn’t wait any longer.

It didn’t take long for him to come up with a plan. He pulled out his phone and pressed the button for one of his speed dials. The conversation with the director and being left in the dark had soured his mood considerably.

“McGee, get Staff Sergeant Tatum in here now,” he snapped, “and don’t tell Tony you’re coming.”

“Boss?” Tim asked. He’d been at the hospital with Tatum all night and didn’t have a clue what was going on.

“Just do it, McGee,” Gibbs grumbled, “and make sure you walk him through the bullpen.”

“You got it, Boss.”

Gibbs hung up the phone, closed his eyes and shook his head. What he was doing was underhanded and he had no idea how Tony would react to it but he didn’t have much of a choice. Whatever was bothering his partner had started when he’d sent him to question Tatum at the crime scene. He needed to see Tony’s reaction when Tatum arrived. Hopefully it would give him something to work with in figuring out what was going on. He had to find a way to get Tony to open up because judging by his very out of character behavior, whatever was going on was something big and if the director got involved, he wouldn’t be able to protect Tony anymore.


	4. The Face of Times Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this being so short. I’ve been battling a sinus infection and double ear infections that just won’t go away. Fingers crossed it’s on its way out and it’ll stay gone for good this time! Thanks for your patience!!

Tony was minding his own business and doing his best to keep his head down when the elevator dinged and Tim stepped off, followed by Christopher Tatum. The fake smile that had been plastered all over Tony’s face all morning faded instantly when he found himself staring into the haunted gray eyes of the man he hadn’t seen in so long; at least before their current case. Tatum looked just as startled to see Tony but neither man spoke. Gibbs watched the whole exchange like a hawk from his desk but unfortunately Tony’s ringing cell phone cut the encounter short.

“McGee, get Tatum settled in the conference room,” Gibbs instructed with a quiet patience. “I’ll be there in a minute.” His eyes were still glued to Tony, watching as the emotionless expression on his senior field agent’s face turned to one of complete panic. All the blood had drained from his face and he looked more shaken than Gibbs had ever seen him.

_“So nice to see two of my favorite boys together again,”_ the voice on the other end of Tony’s phone said. _“This brings back so many memories. Does it bring back memories for you too, Anthony?”_

With the practiced ease of a Marine sniper, Gibbs was suddenly leaning over the back of Tony’s chair like he belonged there. “Something you wanna share, DiNozzo?”

Gibbs’ voice in his ear startled Tony so much he dropped his phone onto his desk. He scrambled to grab it and quickly jabbed his finger into the touch screen, ending the call. “Huh?”

“Problem?” Gibbs asked calmly, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Tony stuttered over his words for a moment as he tried to pull himself together again. “No, no problem,” he finally managed to spit out. “Just a wrong number.”

“Uh-huh,” Gibbs grunted. His tone didn’t hide his skepticism. “You’re awfully jumpy for a wrong number.”

“I—uh—I’m just tired. That’s all. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Keeping up with all those lies must be exhausting.” Gibbs’ voice was gentle as he pressed Tony for answers.

Tony didn’t move, didn’t even flinch at the accusation but judging by his inability to make eye contact or even breathe, Gibbs was hopeful he was on the verge of breaking and that the brokenness would send Tony running to him instead of away from him. Gibbs stood tall and, with every ounce of authority he’d earned over the years, ordered Tony to stay put while he talked to their victim.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Gibbs placed a cup of coffee from the vendor in the courtyard on the table in front of Staff Sergeant Christopher Tatum as he walked by him on his way to the chair at the head of the table. The natural light from the afternoon sun gave the conference room a warm, welcoming feeling. Gibbs hoped the inviting room and a good cup of coffee would put the Marine at ease and loosen his lips. They were twenty four hours into the case and they still had no answers. Between Tatum’s overnight stay in the hospital and Tony’s odd behavior the case was at a standstill but it couldn’t stay like that forever.

“Agent McGee already poured me a cup, Sir,” Tatum said, holding up a Styrofoam cup of the light brown water from the conference room coffee pot. The Marine’s soft voice and shaky hands told a truth that all the lies in the world couldn’t deny. The interview was well under way and Gibbs hadn’t even asked his first question yet.

“That’s nothing but dirty water, Marine,” Gibbs said with a gentle smile. He took the cup and dropped it into the trashcan behind him before turning back towards Tatum. He crossed one leg over the other and settled comfortably into his chair, silently conveying he’d be there for as long as it took to get the answers he was after. “What were you doing at Rock Creek Park this morning?” he asked, digging his notebook and a pen out of his inner jacket pocket.

Tatum shrugged his shoulders in answer to Gibbs’ question but Gibbs just sat quietly, drinking his coffee and letting the awkwardness of the silence grow.

“I was supposed to be meeting someone there, Sir,” the Marine finally answered when he couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Who?”

“Someone,” the Marine answered cryptically. “They didn’t show.”

“So it wasn’t Simon Harding that you were meeting?”

Tatum’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he tried to maintain his composure. “No, Sir. I’ve never even met that guy before this morning.”

“Why’d you kill him?” Gibbs asked bluntly. “The Metro officer at the scene yesterday said you confessed to killing him.”

Tatum shrugged again but his fidgety fingers and shifty eye movements told Gibbs he was getting frazzled. “It’s what I’ve been trained to do.”

“No,” Gibbs replied calmly with a shake of his head. “You’re a United States Marine, Son. You’ve been trained to hold yourself to the highest standard. You’re disciplined, not careless and killing a man in the park that you claim not to have even known is careless, Marine. That’s how I know you’re lying to me.”

“I don’t have an answer for you, Sir,” Tatum said. “If you don’t believe me and that means I’m going to jail,” he shrugged, “then could we please just get it over with? I’m ready.”

“I’m not,” Gibbs said, anger creeping into his tone. “That’s not good enough.”

The sudden outburst from a man who’d been nothing but kind to him had Tatum drawing back in fear which caught Gibbs off guard. Suddenly there was a fearful expression that mirrored Tony’s staring back at him. Tatum was a United States Marine. He’d been through some of the toughest training America’s military had to offer and prevailed and now he was practically cowering in his seat and why? Because Gibbs had showed some anger?

What was going on and why couldn’t he get a handle on it? Was it staring him in the face but he was just too close to the situation to be able to see it? Both Tony and Tatum were holding something back; there was an unreachable part of them that seemed to hold all the answers he was looking for but his talent for tapping into it was somehow evading him.

He needed to step back and get his head on straight, try to figure out whatever it was that he couldn’t see.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

“Have you been avoiding me?” Abby asked suspiciously. “Because I haven’t seen you all morning and I have so many questions and hardly any answers and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Maybe this’ll help,” Gibbs said, holding out a Caf-Pow to her. Exhaustion and impatience were dripping from his voice but he reminded himself he was talking to Abby, his favorite forensic scientist—never mind she was his only forensic scientist—and forced himself to calm down.

“I’m not so sure Caf-Pow holds the answers to my questions this time, Gibbs,” Abby said as she accepted the drink. She happily slurped down a big gulp before putting it aside and looking seriously at Gibbs. “I’m worried about Tony.”

“That seems to be the common theme,” Gibbs muttered—his way of admitting he was worried too.

“I take it that means you don’t know what’s going on either,” Abby said. The look on Gibbs’ face answered her question. “What do we do?” she asked worriedly.

“We treat this case like we would any other case with no witnesses,” Gibbs answered.

“Let the evidence tell the story,” Abby said with a hard swallow. “No pressure on the forensic scientist or anything.”

“If anyone can handle it, it’s you, Abs,” Gibbs replied with a confident smile. “I have faith.”

Abby smiled at the compliment as Gibbs kissed her cheek and before she knew it, he was gone almost as soon as he’d arrived.


	5. Big City in a Small World

The summer storm passing directly over Washington DC didn’t disturb Jethro’s sleep in the least. Bright flashes of lightning interspersed with loud cracks of thunder disturbed the otherwise peaceful evening while heavy rain watered the earth. It was actually what many would consider the perfect sleeping weather and Jethro was among them. But one thing he couldn’t sleep through was a ringing cell phone.  He blindly reached for the phone in the dark, flipped it open and held it to his ear.

“Gibbs,” he grumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Hi, Gibbs!” Abby said, perky as ever. “Is Tony with you?” She waited for an answer but one never came. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“What do ya got, Abs?” Gibbs asked.

“I decided to take a closer look at the evidence,” Abby started. “I’ve been pouring over everything and I found a hidden folder on the dead guy’s computer. Simon Harding was no innocent victim, Gibbs.”

Gibbs sat up in bed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “What do you mean? What’d you find?”

“Videos,” Abby said. “Sick, disgusting videos.”

Gibbs knew Abby’s hesitation meant nothing good but he couldn’t just not ask. “What kind of videos, Abby?”

“Sex videos,” Abby said before hesitating again, “with kids. Some of them look like they’re from a long time ago too. Our dead guy was a child rapist.”

“Son of a—”

“And he wasn’t the only one,” Abby interrupted.

“Tatum?” Gibbs asked. That would explain why Tatum killed Harding. He needed to keep his secret. It would also explain why he was being so tightlipped about his involvement.

“No. Not Tatum. The guy’s name is David Marshall. I’m digging up everything I can on him. All I know so far is that he’s from New York City. Lived there all his life.”

New York City. That was a red flag. “Have you been able to link Tatum?”

“Not yet but there’s a lot of files. I’m still working on getting through all of ‘em.”

Gibbs swallowed hard and closed his eyes tightly. “Anything linking Tony?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want to ask, the answer scared him, but he needed to know.

“Nothing linking Tony either,” Abby replied, “but like I said, there’s a boatload of files to go through. I just thought, you know, it’s the first break in the case and it would kind of explain… stuff so I thought you should know sooner rather than later. As soon as I have something solid you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks, Abs,” Gibbs said before hanging up the phone. A flash of lightning lit up his room for a split second as he dropped his phone onto the nightstand. Child sex videos was a worst case scenario and the fact that some of them were from a long time ago couldn’t mean anything good. Especially when he considered Marshall was from New York City—the same place Tony was from. It may have been a big city but it was still a small world.

A half an hour later Jethro slid the key he’d been given into the lock on Tony’s front door and turned it without a sound. He navigated the dark apartment with ease, stripping down to his boxers as he made his way to Tony’s bedroom. The long, heavy breaths coming from the bed ended with a quiet but panicked gasp as he lifted the blankets and slipped into bed behind Tony.

“You’re awake,” Jethro whispered, wrapping his arms around Tony and tugging him backwards, into his own body. “Did I scare you?”

“Maybe a little,” Tony admitted, trying desperately to get his heart rate under control again. “I’m usually the one sneaking into your place in the middle of the night.” He rolled over and nuzzled noses with the man which he instantly realized was a bad idea. Jethro could feel his heart pounding through his chest and pulled back.

“I know I didn’t scare you that much,” the older man said, resting his hand over Tony’s heart.

“It’s the middle of the night and I wasn’t expecting you. You scared me _that_ much,” Tony lied. What had really startled him was the notion that David Marshall had somehow gotten into his place again and this time he’d come for more than just to deliver a warning.

Jethro rolled Tony over and rubbed his hand slowly and soothingly across the man’s chest, hoping that would help slow his rapidly beating heart. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s neck and let himself relax when he felt Tony relax in his arms. “How’d you sleep last night?” he asked quietly.

“Huh?”

“You said you haven’t been sleeping well. Was last night any better?”

“’little. Are you gonna touch me?” He was too tired to play games and keep up appearances in front of his lover. If he could just get him distracted…

“I am touching you.”

“You know what I mean. It might take a second for him to crawl outta his hiding place after that scare you gave us but I’m sure I can get it up.”

“That’s not why I came over, Tony.” The rhythmic breath sounds coming from Tony’s side of the bed paused and Jethro could sense the fear but he just continued the slow, sweeping movements his hand was making across Tony’s chest.

“Then why did you come over?” Tony asked hesitantly.

“To check on you,” Jethro replied. “I’m worried. You been acting goofy these past couple days.”

“I can explain,” Tony insisted.

“No more lies, Tony,” Jethro said firmly, not even giving him a chance to launch into a drawn out story filled with holes and half-truths.

Tony rested his hand on top of Jethro’s, stilling it, and took a deep, calming breath as he snuggled in closer. “I’m okay,” he said softly, and even though he knew it was foolish he followed it up with, “better now that you’re here.” This isn’t what they did. They didn’t simply cuddle. They didn’t dig into each other’s problems and try to fix them. They made love. They ate together; laughed and had fun together. Both of them had agreed that their relationship had to be that way because they both knew they sucked miserably at all the other parts but now Jethro was breaking the rules and Tony was giving him permission to. All of a sudden they were swimming in dangerous waters but before Tony had much time to process it, Jethro was asking him another question.

“Do you know anyone named David Marshall?” The question was quiet but pressing. Jethro hoped the security of the darkness would help give Tony the courage to open up.

“The name doesn’t sound familiar,” Tony lied, “but who knows, Senior paraded a lot of people in and out of my life when I was younger.”

Jethro’s initial instinct to be angry was interrupted by curiosity. Had Tony just given him a clue? He knew Tony was lying about knowing the man by the way his body tensed when he said his name but instead of calling him on it he raised up above Tony and gently kissed his temple before rolling out of bed and heading for the shower. He wouldn’t lay there and listen to lie after lie again. He couldn’t do that anymore. It hurt too much.

Tony held his breath until he heard the bathroom door down the hall close then he groaned into his pillow as he angrily punched the mattress. The rare moment where their relationship went from purely physical to emotional was over almost as soon as it started but even more devastating was knowing that Jethro was disappointed in him. It was almost enough to send him running to the bathroom to confess everything but he was certain that wouldn’t help anything so he quickly put the thought out of his mind. He had to keep up the charade and not only that, he had to start doing a much better job of it—immediately.

By the time Jethro stepped out of the bathroom clean, freshly shaven and dressed for another long day at work, Tony had the happy plastic smile of a clown painted on his face again. The disappointment on Jethro’s face deepened but he smiled anyways.

“Gonna get an early start?” Tony asked.

“Mm-hmm. See ya at the office.”

“I’ll grab you a cup of coffee on my way in,” Tony replied. “I’m sure you’ll be ready for another caffeine jolt by the time I get there.”

Jethro nodded his thanks before turning and leaving. He waited until he was in the elevator before pulling his phone out and dialing Abby’s number.

“Miss me already?” Abby said instead of the traditional hello.

“See if you can connect David Marshall to DiNozzo Senior,” Gibbs said. There had to be something to Tony’s comment about his father parading people in and out of his life when he was younger.

“Tony’s dad?” Abby asked. She didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit.

“Simon Harding too,” Gibbs added. “I wanna know if either man ever crossed paths with Senior at any point.”

“I’m trying really hard to stay positive here, Gibbs,” Abby said desperately. “I realize there’s a very real chance Tony was taken advantage of when he was a kid considering everything that’s happened over the past couple days but now you’re asking if his dad fed him to the wolves? I know Senior wasn’t the ideal father and he had a lot of flaws but,” she let out a pained sigh and lowered her voice to a whisper, “this would make him a monster.”

“I’m not saying he’s a monster, Abs,” Gibbs said gently. “He might not have a clue but we need to know. Can you handle this?”

The line was silent for several long seconds before an unhappily mumbled ‘yes’ came out of Abby’s mouth.

Jethro closed his eyes and moved the phone away from his ear long enough to rub his eyes with the back of his hand before returning it. “I’ll be there shortly.” The case was really starting to get to Abby and soon it would be getting to everyone. It was his job to hold the team together and keep them focused but that wasn’t easy when he was struggling to hold himself together and he was clearly having a difficult time staying focused on the case. That was clear by the fact that they were starting day three and barely knew any more than they did on day one.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony was surprised when he arrived at NCIS and found everyone already there, hard at work. He certainly wasn’t late by any means, it wasn’t even 8:00 yet, but apparently he’d missed the memo that they were getting an early start that day.

“Either you guys are a bunch of overachieving brownnosers or I missed a memo,” he joked, depositing a tall cup of coffee on Gibbs’ desk before heading over to his own desk.

“This is a big case,” Abby said, “which explains why we’re all here. Gibbs said you haven’t been sleeping well and he needs you fresh, which explains why you’re just getting here.”

“Oh,” Tony said, sounding confused. He didn’t know whether to be worried, upset about being left out of the loop or honored that the team was paying enough attention to be concerned about his wellbeing. “I woulda brought more coffee if I’da known everyone was here already. Where are we at with the case?”

“Abby found a secret file on Harding’s computer linking him to a David Marshall,” Tim said. “He’s originally from New York City but he rented an apartment in DC a couple months ago. We’re in the process of getting a search warrant.”

“And I am on my way back to the lab to continue going through mountains of disgusting files on Harding’s laptop,” Abby said.

“Disgusting?” Tony asked.

“He has a thing for teenagers,” Abby explained. “Young teenagers.” She was pretty sure Tony already knew that but she’d chosen to believe the best until something else had been proven.

“Eww,” Tony said worriedly, “that is disgusting. And he kept records of all his victims?”

“There’s really no way to tell if it’s _all_ his victims but there are a lot of files,” Abby said, trying to be sensitive to Tony’s growing panic without making it obvious. “A lot of it’s video files which take more time to go through but I’m getting it done. Just had to give my bleeding eyeballs a short break.”

“Need any help?” Tony offered. Maybe if he was in any of those files he could find them first and delete them before anyone knew. It was a dangerous road to go down but all he was thinking about was protecting himself.

“Uh-uh,” Gibbs grunted, shaking his head at Tony. He may have spent the last couple days denying what was staring him in the face but he knew better than to let Tony get his hands on any computer evidence; or any evidence at all, for that matter. “I’ve got something else for you to do, Skippy.”

Tony swallowed hard and forced a smile onto his face. The overachievers were on the verge of linking him to Marshall and Harding. His secret would be out soon and it wouldn’t just be Gibbs who found out, the whole agency was going to know. How did things keep going from bad to worse? And how much worse could they actually get before his whole world imploded?


	6. A Paradox Wrapped in an Oxymoron, Smothered in Contradiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends with a really weird awkward cliffhanger/what-the-hell-kind-of-ending-is-that last paragraph but if I pull anymore hair out over it I’ll be bald and you guys will never get chapter six. I’m thinking the next chapter will pick up where this one leaves off.

“Hey, Tony. Are you feeling better?” Jimmy asked cautiously.

“Feeling better?” Tony seemed genuinely confused. Had his behavior been so erratic lately that even the autopsy gremlin had noticed? He quickly chalked it up to Palmer witnessing his freak out the day he’d picked him up at the crime scene. “I didn’t know I was sick,” he joked with his smile firmly back in place.

Jimmy smiled in response but the disbelieving look on his face told Tony he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“When’s Ducky due back?”

“You’re not gonna be able to deflect forever, Tony,” Jimmy replied.

“Deflect? I’m not deflecting. I’m asking when Ducky’s gonna be back from his lunch with whatever nobleman or college buddy or whoever he’s meeting up with.” There was a hint of anger in Tony’s voice but he really didn’t want to push away the only person he felt offered him a safe haven.

Jimmy closed his eyes tightly for a moment, gathering the courage he needed to stand his ground. “No, you’re deflecting. Every time I ask you about what’s going on you change the subject. Maybe that’s because you think you can get away with it with me but if it is, you’re wrong. I care about you more than that, Tony. Let me help you.”

Tony narrowed his eyes in anger. How dare Jimmy call him out? And how dare he be right about everything despite his best efforts to keep his secret? “I don’t need any help,” he snapped. “I’m fine.” And with that he turned and walked out of the autopsy suite, wishing more than anything that there was a door to slam behind him to further convey his anger and disapproval. So much for Jimmy offering him a safe haven. He was turning out to be just as nosy as Gibbs was.

Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was staring at him as he made his way back to the bullpen. He glanced around out of the corners of his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on and how people found out about his secret. He was sure he was doing a good job of hiding it but Jimmy had figured it out somehow and it appeared everyone else had as well. Now they were all judging him, pitying him, staring at him, waiting for him to go off the deep end… expecting some sort of a reaction out of him and even though Tony didn’t want to give it to them, it was starting to feel more and more inevitable.

His breathing grew heavier as panic set in. His eyes tracked over the entire squad room but he didn’t see agents busily plugging away at their cases. He saw a room full of people staring at him, pointing at him, whispering about him, _laughing_ at him and he couldn’t take it for one more second. Instead of making his way over to the bullpen and getting to work, he slipped into the elevator, unnoticed and disappeared before things got any worse.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

“Would it be okay if I took a short break, Dr. Mallard?” Jimmy asked, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“Something pressing on your mind?” Ducky asked. He scrubbed all the way to elbows, rubbing the soap in well before washing it off.

“Well, uh—um, there is kinda something I need to do,” Jimmy stuttered. He usually just got a yes or no when he asked to take a break. He wasn’t prepared to answer questions.

“Something to do with Anthony, perhaps?” Ducky prodded.

“Uhhh—”

“May I suggest that if you’re in over your head, you seek help,” Ducky said with a look on his face that told his young assistant that he fully expected him to heed his advice.

Jimmy swallowed hard and quickly nodded his head. “That sounds like good advice, Doctor.”

Ducky smiled and motioned towards the door after tossing the paper towel he’d dried his hands with into the trash can. “Go.”

Jimmy smiled before hurrying out of the autopsy suite and pressing the button to call the elevator. He hadn’t seen Tony since he’d angrily huffed out of autopsy and that was almost an hour ago. He just wanted to make sure he was okay.

Sometimes Jimmy felt like all he did was wander around the building in search of something or someone and the thing he was searching for was usually top secret so he couldn’t even ask for help. He really didn’t want to advertise the fact that he was looking for Tony for fear of someone getting suspicious and either asking too many questions or digging around on their own. Alerting anyone that something was off with his friend could end in disaster for the senior field agent so he went off on his own, checking all Tony’s usual hangouts first and then searching in the not so obvious places.

After numerous calls that went unanswered and going through the building twice, Jimmy broke down and decided to ask Tim. Aside from Gibbs he was the most likely person to know where Tony was and his desire to protect his partner was as strong as Jimmy’s. If McGee started digging, Tony’s problem wouldn’t turn into the latest office gossip. He cautiously looked around the nearly empty bullpen as he slowly made his way over to Tim’s desk.

“Something I can help you with, Jimmy?” Tim asked, pausing what he was doing and giving his friend his full attention.

After one last look around to make sure they were alone, Jimmy lowered his voice and asked his question. “Have you see Tony lately?”

“As far as I know he’s not back from lunch yet,” Tim replied, trying to figure out why Jimmy was now acting weird as well. Was there something in the water?

“Who’s not back from lunch yet?” Gibbs asked, strolling into the bullpen.

Jimmy’s eyes widened and he shook his head frantically but subtly, trying to get Tim to not answer the question but it was already too late. Tim’s response to Gibbs’ question was almost immediate.

“DiNozzo.”

As soon as Jimmy started mouthing words like ‘no’ and ‘shut up’ to Tim, he could feel Gibbs’ presence behind him and he wished more than anything he’d never asked about Tony in the first place. He turned around and when he found himself practically nose to nose with the man, he swallowed hard and suddenly couldn’t find his voice.

“Where’s DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.

“I—uh—I—I—um—uh—I don’t know.”

“What _do_ you know?” Gibbs asked accusatorily. He knew Tony had gone to Palmer and he still wasn’t happy about it. Now he had an opportunity to confront him about it.

“Nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all,” Jimmy answered a little too quickly.

“That why you’re so jumpy?”

“Jumpy?”

Gibbs moved even closer and lowered his voice to his most dangerous, most protective tone. “I don’t believe you, Palmer,” he growled. “You have two seconds to tell me everything you know or Ducky’s gonna be wandering the building looking for you.” He knew it was an unfair ultimatum but Jimmy seemed to know something and Gibbs got the sneaking suspicion Tony had gone to him again, judging by his strange behavior, and that _really_ pissed him off. Maybe questioning Jimmy was the only way he was going to get any answers.

Jimmy swallowed hard but nodded his head. He knew better than to mess with Gibbs. Besides, he was sure Gibbs could help Tony and the man was probably much more qualified to handle whatever problem Tony was having anyways. Tony might hate him for it but Jimmy hoped he was making the right decision in telling Gibbs. “Tony came down to have lunch with me but I confronted him about his strange behavior and he ran off. That was two hours ago.”

Gibbs fixed Jimmy with a hard glare for a fraction of a second before grabbing his gun and badge and ordering Tim to track Tony’s phone and send him the coordinates.

“Uh, if I could, Agent Gibbs?” Jimmy said. What was he doing? He was lucky Gibbs hadn’t already killed him for not coming to him in the first place. He should just leave well enough alone and disappear back to the safety of autopsy but he couldn’t get his mouth to stop moving, even though Gibbs hadn’t acknowledged that he’d said something. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on,” he said as he followed Gibbs to the elevator, “but Tony seems to be in a bad place right now. He needs a friend, an understanding friend, not an angry boss.”

“I know how to handle Tony, Palmer,” Gibbs said dismissively as he stepped into the elevator. He turned and raised his eyebrows as if he were trying to send Jimmy a message but Jimmy didn’t have a clue what the message was and before he could say anything else the elevator doors closed and Gibbs was gone.

“They’re lovers,” Abby said, appearing out of nowhere.

“What? No!”

“Yep! I caught ‘em with their pants down in my lab once.”

“You did not,” Jimmy said. He was trying his best to come across as not believing the joke Abby was playing on him but his tone made it sound like a question.

“I did,” Abby said with a dreamy quality in her voice and a wiggle of her eyebrows. “If anyone can help Tony right now, it’s Gibbs.”

“I just feel like I ratted him out or betrayed his confidence or something.”

“Some problems are bigger than we can handle. Jimmy. There’s no shame in asking for help. I don’t know what’s going on with Tony but he’s not gonna be able to sweep it under the rug forever and when it comes out, Gibbs is the best person he can have in his corner.”

“I don’t know what’s going on either but I think it’s something big,” Jimmy said. “I just hope Gibbs can help him.” He wrapped his arm around Abby and rested his head on top of hers after she rested her head on his shoulder.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Gibbs drove like a madman through early afternoon traffic, not even waiting for Tim to pinpoint Tony’s location. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew where his lover was—at least he hoped he knew. He slowed just enough to not squeal his tires as he turned into his driveway and hurried inside.

Tony’s car was parked out front and Gibbs knew just where to find him. Gibbs had always tortured himself in his basement but it was usually the first place his loved ones sought refuge, Tony especially. Gibbs forced himself to calm down as he made his way down the stairs. He could see Tony sitting propped up against the wall, staring blankly across the room and silently lowered himself down next to the man. Neither of the spoke for quite some time, Gibbs unsure of what to say that he hadn’t already said and Tony deep in thought.

“You kinda remind me of Santa Claus,” Tony finally said. When Jethro looked over at him with curiosity Tony continued. “Whenever you’re close to finishing a boat I always tell myself I’m gonna stick around and see how you get it outta the basement. That never seems to happen though. Then I show up the next day and the boat’s gone. You work in mysterious ways, just like Santa.”

Silence took over again and lasted several more moments before Tony opened his mouth again. Jethro remained silent, knowing no amount of pushing, prodding and demanding was going to force his lover to open up to him. “I wish you could make my problems disappear like you do your boats; make the past stay buried…” His voice trailed off, allowing Jethro an opportunity to respond.

“I messed up, Tony,” he said regretfully, “with you… us… our relationship… hell, everything.”

“You’re Gibbs. You don’t make mistakes.”

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Jethro replied with a gentle laugh, “and I’ve made more than my share. I was trying so hard not to make a mistake with you that I ended up making the biggest mistake of all. I kept you at arm’s length; tried to protect you by not getting too close but only ended up hurting you even more. Definitely hurt our relationship.”

“A relationship takes two people, Jethro,” Tony pointed out. “We both decided how we wanted to play this. It’s not on you.”

“We need to do better if this is gonna work.”

The ‘if’ scared Tony but he was too afraid to bring it up. Jethro had come after him and he was calm and seemed willing to talk and listen instead of yell and demand answers. That had to count for something. Hopefully things between them didn’t change too much. Tony couldn’t bear the thought of that. He sat quietly, picking at his fingers for a little while longer before speaking again. “You can’t fix this,” he choked out, his words so soft Jethro had to strain to hear them.

Jethro’s heart fluttered in anticipation at the thought of finally figuring out what ‘this’ was but he successfully managed to keep the desperation out of his voice. “I can help.”

Tony dropped his head to his hands, shaking it back and forth repeatedly and Gibbs could almost feel him closing himself off again.

“Please, Tony,” he said, “let me in.”

“You can’t fix everything, Jethro!” Tony snapped. “No amount of head slaps or Gibbs glares will fix this.”

“Well I sure as hell ain’t gonna sit back and watch you self-destruct!” Jethro said, the anger in his tone matching Tony’s. He managed to tamp down his anger and let the desperation take over, hoping if he let Tony see him vulnerable he might be willing to be vulnerable as well. “Let me in, Tony. Trust me. I’ve got your six.”

“I’m scared,” Tony whispered. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jethro said. “Whatever it is we’ll work through it together.”

Tony’s entire body started shaking uncontrollably at the thought of revealing his secret but it had gotten to the point where he didn’t have much of a choice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, doing his best to push the fear away and find the courage to open up somewhere deep inside him but when he felt Jethro’s arm slip around him, tug him close and hold onto him as tightly as he could, the brave front disappeared and left behind a broken man that didn’t have the strength or energy to hide any longer.


	7. Patience of a Saint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies for how long it took me to update this story, you guys. Work has been hell and getting into the right mindset to continue this story just hasn't happened. Thanks for all the reviews, messages and continued support and interest in it. I promise not to leave you hanging. The story will be finished!

“Please don’t make me tell you,” Tony mumbled desperately.

Jethro held Tony tighter and mimicked his same desperate tone. “Please don’t make me beg.”

“Can I have a beer?”

“No. I won’t let you use alcohol as an escape.”

“Coffee?”

“You’re stalling.”

“Please?”

“If you promise no more stalling.”

“No more stalling,” Tony agreed.

Tony was so worn out both emotionally and physically that he all but passed out on the couch while he waited for Jethro to brew a pot of coffee and bring him a cup and this time it wasn’t a stall tactic or a way to get out of talking to his lover or his boss. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t really sure which one he was prepared to confess to. It seemed easier to tell Gibbs, his boss, for some reason. The feelings of shame and guilt and just feeling dirty made it a little more difficult to tell Jethro, his lover.

Regardless of who he had to tell, his eyes fell closed and he slipped away into blissful unconsciousness before Jethro returned with the coffee. His body needed sleep and for some reason, in the safety of Jethro’s lair, he found enough comfort and a surprising warmth that allowed him a fairly peaceful sleep.

Jethro returned only a few short moments after helping Tony to the couch, coffee in hand, to find his lover slouched over in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable and would definitely result in soreness if he left him to sleep in that position. A fleeting thought to wake Tony and continue their conversation gave way to the knowledge that Tony’s body simply couldn’t handle any more so he dragged the half conscious man to his feet and half guided, half carried him up to the bedroom.

After getting Tony upstairs, stripping him down to his boxers (when had Tony started wearing underwear?) and an undershirt and laying him down, Jethro called McGee for an update, changed out of his work clothes into a comfortable pair of sweats and settled in for the long haul. Nothing could get him away from Tony’s side. The man needed him and he would be there for him—for the first time he would _really_ be there for him.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

It was dark outside when Tony finally opened his eyes. He was settled in comfortably on his side; so comfortably that he had no desire to move. The soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand behind him lit the room just enough for him to start getting his bearings. He knew without a doubt that he was in Jethro’s bedroom and even though he couldn’t see him, he was very aware of the man’s presence.

Tony remained perfectly still, doing his best not to alert his lover that he was awake while he tried to figure out what was going on, what had happened and how much time had passed. All he seemed to be able to focus on was Jethro though. He knew the blue eyes that had captivated him on that city street in Baltimore were locked on him once again and that this time there would be no running from the burning questions and no lies would be powerful enough to mask the truth and as unavoidable as the truth coming out seemed, that made his current situation that much scarier.

The fearful thoughts caused a shuddery breath and just like that the gig was up. As he laid in silence, the bed dipped behind Tony and Jethro’s presence grew even stronger.  Tony waited for the low, deep rumble of Jethro’s voice but it didn’t come. Instead he felt large hands, surprisingly gentle on the back of his head; long, sleek fingers combing through his too long, somewhat scruffy hair, soothing and comforting him and easing his growing anxiety in a way only Jethro seemed to know how to do—not that Tony could tell him that. Their relationship, or lack thereof, wasn’t one of openness with feelings and talk of emotions.

Still, Tony found himself actually wanting to confess his long kept secret; wanting to open up to his lover, but just as the words were getting ready to come out he could feel David Marshall’s hand on his crotch, tightening in a painful grip; he could hear the man’s voice in his head, promising harm to the only person in the world Tony truly cared about and that was enough to stop him from saying anything.

The fingers moved down, gently caressing his neck before settling against his shoulders and back, kneading his tense, knotted muscles, offering comfort and even more than that, providing a measure of calm and a sense of reassurance that Tony found himself clinging to. There was a war going on inside him. Did he tell and risk losing Jethro? Losing Gibbs? Being shamed out of his job? Sent away from the life he’d been building for the past few years? Away from his family? Or should he lie and protect himself from ridicule and Gibbs from harm? Keep his family out of this whole, big mess?

“Whatcha thinking about?” Jethro asked, his calm voice interrupting the quiet in the room.

Another shaky breath preceded Tony’s answer. “A lonely life,” he answered. “A life without you.”

“Never gonna happen,” Jethro replied matter-of-factly. And maybe even possessively?

“No. You don’t understand.” Tony’s voice cracked and his body tensed as the stress of trying to make Jethro understand set in. “You don’t get it!”

“Explain it to me. Help me understand.” Jethro remained calm even as Tony started getting worked up.

With little consideration and against his better judgment, Tony answered and the lies that had been building ever since he’d seen that familiar face at the crime scene gave way to the truth. “He said he’d hurt you.”

“Who?”

Tony shook his head no and Gibbs could feel him shutting down again. "Who, Tony?” he asked again, his voice still patient. “Who's gonna hurt me?" He gave Tony some time to respond before taking a different approach. "Have you lost faith in me? Do you not think I can take care of myself anymore? Do you think I can't take care of you?"

"That's not what I said," Tony replied, clearly frustrated.

"It's what you're not saying. It's what your actions are telling me." The nearly unnoticeable quiver in Tony’s shoulders told Jethro he was pushing a little too hard and he changed tactics once again. He knew how to coax information out of victims and was confident he could get Tony to open up to him as well, even if Tony wasn’t going to make it easy on him. “Why’d you leave NCIS? Work day wasn’t over. You’ve never done anything like that before. You had me curious.” That was the understatement of the century, He was curious about a whole helluva lot more than that but maybe starting with something easy would get the words flowing. “I’ve got some water here for you but you’re gonna have to sit up to drink it.”

Despite his desperation to taste the cool, refreshing liquid on his lips, just the thought of sitting up was exhausting. He didn’t know if he had the energy to move from the comfortable nest he’d created for himself. “I’m so tired,” he whispered.

“I know,” Jethro said. “I’ll help you.”

Jethro’s compassion caught Tony completely off-guard. Despite all the secrets and lies the man was still there, taking care of him and maybe— _maybe_ even loving him. Tony had never felt so weak but Jethro was as strong as ever.

Tony worked up the energy to roll onto his back then pushed himself up into a sitting position. He was immediately surrounded by Jethro’s arm and drawn to his side, as if the man was afraid he was somehow going to lose him and, as if to say there was no chance of that happening, Tony willing melted into the man’s embrace. Moments later there was a straw at his mouth and all the cool water he could drink at his lips.

The genuine show of concern and being cared for so primitively had Tony’s body tingling. They’d been meeting each other’s needs on a physical level for quite some time but never on an emotional level; never in a way that went beyond the bedroom or their job and despite the circumstances, the powerful feelings that accompanied the new sensation had Tony’s dick trying to fill and his thoughts turning passionate.

“Make love to me,” he said, his voice still dry and a little hoarse.

“No,” Jethro replied gently, “I won’t let you hide behind sex this time.”

“I’m not hiding,” Tony said. “I feel so close to you right now.”

“You are close to me,” Jethro said. He squeezed Tony even tighter as he kissed his temple. He lowered his voice to a near whisper and with every ounce of care and concern he possessed said, “tell me why you left yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Tony tensed as the word repeated itself in his head. How long had he been out of it? “What time is it?”

“Just after 4:00 in the morning,” Jethro answered patiently. “You were exhausted so I let you sleep.”

“I still am,” Tony whimpered, rubbing at his eyes. Why was he whimpering? He felt like he was on some sort of emotional rollercoaster and he really just wanted it to stop so he could get off.

“You’re okay,” Jethro cooed and Tony wondered just how well the other man knew him. It felt like he could see right through him but at the moment Tony felt too weak to care. The thought was more comforting than scary. Fear about the man’s reaction when his secret was finally discovered was overpowered by a desperate hope that Jethro would use that intimate knowledge to take away the pain and somehow make him feel better—maybe even make everything just go away.

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud,” Tony finally admitted.

“Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?” Jethro asked gently.

“This is different,” Tony insisted. “This is big.”

“I can handle big, Tony. Try me.”

“I’m scared,” Tony whispered.

“I’m right here,” Jethro assured him. He tugged Tony even closer and held him even tighter, hoping the safety of his embrace would take away some of the fear Tony was battling.

Tony remained uncharacteristically quiet as he sat in Jethro’s arms simply soaking up the love and affection, pretending it was something else; that their relationship was something more. Despite the battle going on inside him and his determination to keep his secret, he knew the time had come for him to give it up but how?

“I’ve never told anyone,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He cleared his throat and spoke more clearly. “Not even my dad.” There was another brief hesitation as Tony tried to find both the words and courage to continue but he did so without Jethro having to prompt him again. “When I was thirteen my dad’s best friend offered me a job. The guy was loaded and I knew he’d pay me well so I was excited. Dad was the same back then as he is today—always thinking about making another dollar so he was all for it; wanted me to learn young. It also kept me out of his hair.”

“David Marshall or Simon Harding?”

“David Marshall,” Tony answered. “I didn’t meet Simon Harding till later and even then he wasn’t around much.”

“What was the job?” Jethro asked.

“I was supposed to be a bike messenger,” Tony answered, “deliver documents for him.”

“But?”

“But there was no bike. David said it was too dangerous for a thirteen year old to ride a bike around the streets of New York City so I rode around in his limo with him and very rarely did I actually deliver anything to anyone. Well, anyone except for him. I delivered plenty of blow jobs to him in the back of that limo.”

Jethro didn’t tense, didn’t hold his breath, grunt, grumble, scream or show any sort of emotion that might scare Tony out of continuing. He simply kept his arm wrapped securely around him, listened patiently and asked questions when Tony seemed to get stuck. “How did it start?”

“He, um… he left me in the limo one day while he went in to get himself a coffee and me one of those over the top highly caffeinated, chocolately coffee drinks with whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top. It was weird because he usually had his driver get his coffee but I didn’t think much of it. I was a nosy little shit and it didn’t take long for me to find the porn magazines. I’m pretty sure he had them strategically placed so I would for sure find them. I played right into his hands.”

Tony took a deep breath and carefully avoided any and all eye contact with Jethro, not wanting to see the look of disgust on his face but to his surprise the man just squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and lovingly and patiently urged him to continue.

“I was a thirteen year old with raging hormones—all those naked guys and girls on the pages; by the time David got back I had a raging hard-on and there was no hiding it. He caught me looking at the magazines and stopped me when I tried to put ‘em away. He started showing me his favorite pictures and before long he had a boner too. We jacked off together. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal at the time. We were just two guys, lookin’ at dirty pictures, pleasuring ourselves.”

“He tell you not to say anything to Senior?” Jethro questioned.

“Yep, said Dad wouldn’t understand. He said we could have a lot of fun together if we just kept it between us and stupid me believed him.”

“Not stupid,” Jethro replied nonchalantly. He smiled at Tony when Tony’s eyes met his despite the rage growing and burning inside him.

Tony rested his head on Jethro’s shoulder and started picking at his cuticles as he continued. “Jacking off eventually turned into jacking each other off which turned into blow jobs and then, when he thought I was ready, sex. It all happened so gradually. Looking back I don’t know how I coulda been so stupid but back then I didn’t even realize what was happening. One day we were jacking off together and the next my pants were around my ankles and he was balls deep inside me but it just seemed natural and it felt… right.”

“He groomed you,” Jethro said. “People like that know what to say and do to get unsuspecting kids to conform to their wants.”

“David was a master at that,” Tony agreed, “and I fell for it hook, line and sinker.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tony,” Jethro said, knowing he’d have to repeat that line to his lover over and over again before he started believing him. He kissed the top of Tony’s head and wrapped his hand around Tony’s to stop him from picking at his fingers. “Your dad didn’t suspect anything?”

“No. It was our little secret. Besides, dad was too caught up in his own money making schemes to pay much attention to me.”

Tony relaxed into Jethro’s shoulder and strong embrace even more. With the exception of how tightly Jethro was holding his hand, the man was a lot calmer than Tony thought he would be.

"Jethro?"

"Hmm?"

"You're squeezing my hand really tight."

"Sorry."

"That's okay," Tony said, tightening his grip on Jethro's hand as the man loosened his. He didn’t want to completely lose the connection. "Thank you for not freaking out."

The truth was Jethro was freaking out on the inside, he just wasn't sure how to express it without hurting Tony. He'd never been good at emotions and even though he'd known the basics of what Tony was going to say he wasn't as prepared to hear it as he thought he was. Suddenly it was all so real and as sick and furious as he felt about the whole thing, he couldn't even begin to imagine what Tony had gone through and how he was feeling now that it had been brought up again.

For the moment though Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed and safe. Jethro’s calm, reassuring reaction was the exact opposite of what he’d been expecting and Tony felt an overwhelming sense of peace at finally letting go of his secret. His breathing deepened as Jethro’s thumb rubbed tiny circles into his shoulder and his eyelids slipped closed as Jethro’s fingers combed through his hair.

Jethro continued stroking Tony’s hair even after Tony slipped back into a peaceful sleep. He may have been calm on the outside but on the inside he felt sick, beyond upset and more hatred towards David Marshall than he’d felt towards the enemy combatants he’d fought as a Marine. The man had gone after one of his own; one Jethro cared about in a way he couldn’t quite explain; in a way he hadn’t cared about anyone since his beloved Shannon, and the man wouldn’t get away with it.

There was a war on the horizon and Jethro was ready for battle. He would be the first one to step up and fight for Tony and there was no way in hell he’d be walking away the loser. By the time he was done with him, David Marshall would be no more.


	8. Rules Are Made To Be Broken

Jethro stood tall and proud in the shower, letting the too hot water wash over his reddened skin while he stewed about everything he’d learned only a few short hours before. The more he stewed the more difficult it was to stay calm but he knew he had to for Tony’s sake. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that terrified look on Tony’s face again and he most certainly didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize whatever relationship they had. It was much easier to deal with the other victims they saw on a daily basis but this? Rule ten was a rule for a very good reason but there was no way around it; this was personal and that complicated the hell out of every aspect of it.

He finished getting himself washed up, shaved, brushed his teeth and hair and quietly dressed without waking Tony. Despite the urge to let the man sleep, his desire to touch and kiss won out. He ran his hand over Tony’s hair as he leaned over and kissed his sleeping lover on the forehead.

The freshly showered scent and cool, wet lips against his skin caused Tony to stir. He opened his eyes to find Jethro leaning over the bed. “What’s wrong?” he mumbled groggily.

“Nothing,” Jethro answered quietly. “I’m going to the Navy Yard for a little while. You stay here. Ducky’s downstairs.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Tony grumbled, sounding like a petulant teenager.

“He’s not babysitting,” Jethro called over his shoulder as he headed towards the door. “He’s here making tea. He likes the water on this side of town better.”

“Liar!” Tony called after Jethro, his face breaking into a smile. He actually appreciated Jethro asking Ducky to come over and stay with him. He wasn’t much in the mood to talk to anyone but he didn’t really want to be alone either.

A short time later Jethro made his way through the security checkpoint in NCIS’s lobby with no small talk and little patience. Now that he was no longer in Tony’s presence, he didn’t have to bottle things up any longer. The muscles in his forearms and his biceps flexed involuntarily as he imagined getting his hands on David Marshall while he rode the elevator to the third floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, doing his best to calm himself but in the end it proved to be futile.

“Track down David Marshall _now_ , McGee,” he demanded as he made his way through the bullpen over to his desk, “I don’t want him roaming the streets for one more day.”

“You got it, Boss,” Tim replied with more confidence than he felt. He’d been looking for David Marshall ever since Abby had IDed him and hadn’t had any luck. There were agents sitting on his house, his bank accounts were frozen and were set up to alert McGee if the man tried to get any money, BOLOs were out, every law enforcement agency in the city was on the lookout for him but he was yet to be located. Now Gibbs was back and more determined than ever but that didn’t change the fact that the man knew how to hide.

In the midst of all the unknowns McGee knew one thing for sure: things were about to get very ugly.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony laid in bed long after Jethro had disappeared from the room. He’d tried to go back to sleep and failed but he really had no desire to move either. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he decided he needed normalcy; or was it a desire to keep tabs on the investigation? Regardless, he needed to get to NCIS. But first he just needed to get out of bed. Maybe some coffee would help.

Tony made his way downstairs, shuffling across the hardwood floors in his socked feet, cozy flannel pajama pants covering his long legs and a plain white tank top completing his look. His hair was a mess and Ducky was surprised to find that Tony was just about as talkative as Gibbs had been earlier that morning—not very.

Ducky poured a cup of coffee for the younger man and put it on the table in front of him before heading to the refrigerator to grab the creamer Jethro kept on hand. When he returned he found Tony chugging the beverage black and unsweetened and entirely too fast.

“Slow down, my boy,” Ducky said. “That’ll burn a hole in your stomach.”

“I’m in a hurry,” Tony replied, “I’m running late.”

“Late?” Ducky asked, trying to hide his surprise and worry. “I didn’t realize you had somewhere to go today, Anthony.”

“It’s Thursday, Ducky,” Tony said matter-of-factly, “I have to go to work.”

Ducky’s initial instinct was to try to persuade Tony to take a day off but he knew that would be just about as easy as it was to get Gibbs to take a day off—damn near impossible. “The only place you’ll be going is the bathroom if you keep drinking Jethro’s coffee that fast,” he said instead. “Have some breakfast with me. I can make you some eggs? Cereal? Oatmeal?”

“Good point,” Tony said, setting the coffee aside. “Oatmeal sounds good, with maple and brown sugar?”

“Two bowls of oatmeal coming right up,” Ducky replied warmly.

Tony tapped his finger against his coffee cup while he processed everything that happened the previous night and watched Ducky make a bowl of oatmeal for each of them. He felt closer to Jethro somehow. It had felt good to share his secret and still feel accepted (and loved?) by the man. The state of their relationship was more confusing than ever, especially considering the fact that Tony actually found himself wanting something a little more meaningful than they’d shared in the past but he felt hopeful for a possible future. Hopefully it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

“You know, Ducky, last night’s the first time Jethro and I spent an entire night together,” Tony pointed out while Ducky sweetened his oatmeal with the maple and brown sugar he’d requested. “And we didn’t even have any fun—if you know what I mean.”

“Life and relationships can’t always be about fun, dear boy,” Ducky pointed out gently. “You and Jethro are taking baby steps towards a true and healthy relationship and I’m proud of both of you.”

“I get it now,” Tony admitted, “you know, what you were saying before. We thought that was the way to go; don’t get too invested and you won’t get hurt but that’s not how it works. I understand.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Ducky smiled at Tony as he put a bowl of steaming oatmeal on the table in front of him. “Are you sure you want to go into the office today? Jethro’s not expecting you. You have nothing to prove to anyone.”

“I know,” Tony replied, blowing on a spoonful of his hot cereal, “but I wanna go.”

Ducky nodded, a look of understanding on his face. “In that case eat up. I have a feeling it’s going to be another long day.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Nerves and the building tension were starting to get the better of Tony as he sat in the passenger seat of Ducky’s Morgan and looked out the window. The closer they got to the Navy Yard the more Tony started to question his decision to head to work. Gibbs wasn’t expecting him but sitting at home while his teammates—his friends—dug around in his past was scarier than dealing with all the questioning looks, curious stares and out of line questions.

Still, despite his best efforts to remain calm, his frustration and irritability were building and each time someone questioned his presence or gave him a strange look, he was one step closer to snapping.

“No one knows anything, Anthony,” Ducky said, resting a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder when he saw the distant look in the younger man’s eyes. “Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

“I know,” Tony lied. It all felt very real but he couldn’t admit that and risk coming off as weak or anything other than normal.

“Would you like me to ride up to the squad room with you?”

“No thanks, Ducky, I’m fine, really.”

“You know where to find me if you need me.”

Tim was right in the middle of repeatedly sticking his foot in his mouth thanks to his nervous energy when Tony strolled through the bullpen and dropped into his chair. The youngest agent on the team was used to having Tony around as a buffer between himself and Gibbs and that missing link in the short chain was creating some unpleasant situations.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs’ surprise at Tony’s presence made his voice come out harsher than he’d intended but he quickly cleared his throat and started over in a much calmer tone. “Tony, what’re you doing here?”

After being asked the same thing multiple times that morning, the question only frustrated Tony more. “Why does everybody keep asking me that? It’s Thursday and the last time I checked Thursday was a work day therefore I am at work.”

Gibbs remained calm as he made his way over to Tony’s desk and sat on the edge right in front of the man. It was immediately clear to him that his lover was struggling but he wasn’t sure what to do to help him. He felt tugged in two different directions. Should he continue to be Gibbs, the boss, and press forward with the case or did he turn into Jethro, the lover, and take care of his partner? There was a reason for rule twelve—a good one, but Tony was worth breaking the rules. “Tony,” he said gently.

“What?!” Tony snapped.

“Tony,” Gibbs repeated. He rested his hands on Tony’s shoulders, caught Tony’s eyes and watched the man until he took a deep breath and started calming himself down but before he could say anything else Jimmy walked into the bullpen, oblivious to what had been going on.

“Hey, guys!” he said. “Hi, Tony. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Hi, Jimmy,” Tony said, not even addressing his comment.

“Palmer?” Gibbs asked, shooting him a look that clearly demanded to know what he was doing upstairs. His gruff exterior masked the relief he felt at having an extra minute or two to figure out what to do with Tony.

“Oh, Dr. Mallard sent me on a coffee run and told me to come up here and see if you guys wanted anything. He’s paying.”

“Ducky’s drinking coffee?” Tim questioned.

“I know, right?” Jimmy said, a look of confusion on his face.

Jethro turned his attention back to Tony and smiled gently at the man. “Why don’t you go with Palmer?” he suggested. He knew Tony would be in good hands with Jimmy and it would allow him some time to figure out what to do with Tony while the rest of them worked the case.

Tony rolled his eyes as he stood, even though he was thankful for the excuse to get out of there already. Returning to work had been harder than he thought it would be. “I’m a little late for work one day and I get demoted to errand boy?”

“You can’t work this case, Tony. You know that,” Gibbs said, even though Tony was already following Jimmy over to the elevator. Jethro's heart broke even more as he watched Tony walk away, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly in defeat, but a phone call from Abby didn't give him much time to dwell on it. He released his phone from the holder on his belt and put it to his ear as Tony disappeared into the elevator and the doors closed with a ding.

"What do ya got, Abs?" he asked with absolutely no enthusiasm.

“Is your Gibbsometer out of whack?” Abby asked. “I’ve got something for you and you’re not here.”

“’m on my way,” Gibbs said before snapping the phone closed in her ear.

Abby was pacing the floor and watching the door intently when Gibbs arrived. She barely let him cross the threshold into her lab before she started grilling him. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong? First your Gibbsometer didn't go off when I had something for you and that’s worrisome enough but that look on your face tells me you know what I'm about to show you. Do you know what I'm about to show you?"

Gibbs wrapped his arm around Abby and drew her into a hug, hoping to erase the worried look from her face. "Tony and I talked last night."

Abby waited but Gibbs didn't elaborate. "They say acknowledgement is the first step to healing," she offered hesitantly but hopefully helpfully. "Talking is good. It's hard but it's healthy and good."

"You sound like Ducky," Gibbs said with a soft smile. The brief conversation made him realize not only that he, too, had a support system to get through this but that he needed one almost as much as Tony did. Maybe they all did. "Thanks, Abs," he said, pulling her into a full on hug and kissing her temple. The moment lingered before he let go and refocused on the case. "Whatcha got?"

"Nothing good."

"That seems to be the common theme but we have to face it to get through it, right?"

"Right."

After a content warning worthy of the Motion Picture Association of America, Abby played a short clip of video from Simon Harding’s computer for her beloved boss.

Jethro squinted and moved closer to the screen, staring intently at the four people in the clip. “Is that?”

“Uh-huh,” Abby replied.

“And?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Gibbs pulled his phone off his belt and quickly hit the button that would connect him to McGee. He signed ‘I love you’ to Abby before turning and heading for the elevator, jabbing his finger into the button to call it to his level while he waited for his junior agent to answer.

“McGee, get Christopher Tatum outta lock-up right now,” he demanded.

Tim’s question was cut off when Gibbs promptly hung up the phone in his ear. He stood quiet, still and calm in the elevator for a moment before angrily punching the wall hard enough to leave a slight dent. Everything was blowing up in his face. Tony was all over the place and he didn’t have a clue what to say or how to help him. He had a dead child rapist and one on the loose. The director was breathing down his neck and now Abby was showing him video of both Tony and Tatum being victimized by Harding and Marshall. He’d put a child sexual assault victim in a holding cell and left him there overnight for killing one of his rapists. Everything was a mess.

He pulled his phone off his belt once again and stared at it for a long moment before making one of the most difficult calls of his life. “Director, we have a situation, Sir,” he said once he’d been connected. “I need you in the conference room in twenty.”

“Is it urgent?” Morrow asked. His agent’s tone made him think it was but the twenty minute wait made him curious.

“Yes, Sir, but I need to talk to Agent DiNozzo first.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

“You’re looking better today,” Jimmy told Tony as he pulled his car out onto the main road and headed towards their favorite coffee shop. “Looks like you got some rest.”

“I feel a little better,” Tony replied. “I, um, I talked to Jethro last night. Like, _really_ talked to him.”

“That’s good, Tony,” Jimmy said with a genuine smile.

Tony fidgeted nervously in the passenger seat for a couple minutes while Jimmy drove, quietly contemplating telling Jimmy his secret. Telling Jethro felt better than he ever thought it would and his lover’s supportive and loving reaction had been encouraging. Maybe it was a bad idea but a part of him was searching for that same feeling of warmth and acceptance he’d felt when he opened up and let Jethro see the whole him—the _real_ him.

There was also the issue of everything he had put Jimmy through; the panicked phone calls, the mood swings, the favors and the fact that Jimmy had been at his beck and call, no questions asked throughout it all. They were good friends and Tony knew that even though Jimmy didn’t expect anything, he deserved an explanation.

“You don’t have to tell me, Tony,” Jimmy said gently.

Tony smiled slightly at the fact that his friend could read his mind. “I know,” he said, “but I want to and I want you to hear it from me, not the rumor mill at NCIS.” He took a few more moments to gather his thoughts before starting. “The dead guy in autopsy, he, um, took an interest in me when I was a teenager. A little too much of an interest, if you know what I mean.”

“He molested you?” Jimmy asked hesitantly. Tony nodded his head with a surprising amount of uncertainty that Jimmy didn’t quite understand but that didn’t matter to the younger of the two men. “I’ve never wished harm on anyone before but if it was possible, I’d kill Simon Harding all over again without hesitation.”

The statement made Tony smile and brought back the warm feeling of acceptance that had come when he’d told Jethro. He’d been hiding in shame for so long, believing the lies he’d been told by his abusers that now that the truth was coming out, he couldn’t believe the reactions he was getting or the love he was feeling.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” Tony said, “that really means a lot to me.” Jimmy didn’t need to know all the disgusting details, he didn’t need to know about David Marshall or Christopher Tatum or any of that; the little Tony had told him was more than enough.

Jimmy reached over and patted Tony’s shoulder in a show of support. For him there was no other option. He wasn’t the type of friend who was only around when things were good and he certainly had no intention of abandoning Tony when he needed his friends the most. “We better hurry up and get this coffee and get it back to the team,” Jimmy said. “This is one case that needs to be solved yesterday.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony couldn’t help but feel like he’d been ambushed as soon as he stepped off the elevator with the highly caffeinated beverages he and Jimmy had brought back for everyone. It quickly became clear that something had happened while he and Jimmy were out picking up the coffee. Judging by the way his lover was looking at him, it was obvious the man knew something he didn’t, but what? Tony realized whatever it was was going to be bad as soon as Jethro took him by the hand and gently led him to an unoccupied conference room.

Once the two were shut inside, away from the listening ears of everyone else, Jethro managed to get one sentence out before Tony once again started getting agitated. “I need you to fill in some details, Tony, and it can’t be just me listening this time.”

Even though what Jethro had told him hadn’t really been a surprise, he couldn’t help but be a little upset. “I knew it was all gonna have to come out,” he grunted, “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Tony, but we need answers and it can’t wait any longer,” Jethro replied. The video Abby showed him had made that perfectly clear.

“Alright,” Tony agreed. At that point all he could do was trust Gibbs. The man knew his secret and Tony knew he had his best interest at heart.

“You okay if Morrow sits in?”

“I guess,” Tony replied with a shrug.

Jethro smiled sadly as he watched the unique spark that was all Tony leave his eyes and his protective mask slip back into place. He reached across the table and ran his fingertips over the back of Tony’s hand. “I wish it could be another way, Tony.”

Tony nodded that he understood. Telling Jethro and Jimmy was one thing but letting the director in on his secret was totally different and much more intimidating. “It’s not your fault anyways,” he said. “None of this is your fault.”

“I still wish I could make it better.”

“You are,” Tony said, shrugging indifferently, “just by being here. That helps a lot.”

Jethro patted Tony’s hand lovingly as the door opened and Morrow stepped into the room. There was so much more he wanted to say to Tony about them and their relationship but unfortunately that would have to wait until another time.

“Tatum’s being fed,” the director informed the two agents. “McGee’s making arrangements for him. Are you two ready for me?”

“Actually,” Tony said as he stood, “you can just tell him, Jethro. I don’t mind.”

“Anthony.” Jethro’s heart broke when Tony turned towards him and he saw the fear in his lover’s eyes. He wanted nothing more than to jump in and protect Tony from the whole mess and somehow take away all the pain it had caused but the only way Tony could start the healing process was to walk through fire and all Jethro could do was stick close by side and help him along the way.

“Okay,” Tony said. He sat back down without making Jethro tell him to. It was his story and he had to be the one to tell it. He was now one of the witnesses in this case, not the investigator.

Jethro sat patiently and listened as Tony recounted the same details he’d told him very early that morning to Director Morrow.

“I’m sure you already know this but I still have to say it,” Morrow said gently once Tony had finished. “You can’t work this case, Agent DiNozzo.”

“Gibbs already told me,” Tony said with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.

“I’m tempted to bring the FBI in on this, Jethro,” Morrow said, turning his attention to the senior agent.

“That’s not necessary,” Tony interrupted with a surprising desperation in his voice. “I’ll stand down and let Gibbs and McGee handle it, I promise.”

“You know the rules about investigating cases involving agents,” Morrow said.

“I thought that was more for agents who may or may not be guilty of a crime,” Tony argued, “not agents who’re the victim.” Victim. Did he really just say that out loud? Was he a victim?

“Wait outside for a second, Tony,” Gibbs requested calmly.

“But—”

“Ah-ah,” Gibbs grunted, holding up a single finger to shush Tony. When Tony looked at him incredulously he winked at him and motioned towards the door with his head.

Tony’s mouth fell open but he stood and stalked to the door, the look on his face showing his disapproval at Gibbs’ choice to send him into the hallway to wait. He could practically feel Gibbs begging him to trust him and Tony did trust him but what worried Tony was that Gibbs still didn’t know everything. In fact, the little bit he did know barely scratched the surface and now the man was deciding jurisdiction without him. Not only was his entire future at stake, the decision the two men made directly affected how many people and agencies would learn the dirty truth about his past and he was alone in the hall, like a scolded student waiting to be called into the principal’s office to learn their punishment.

He paced impatiently, trying to keep his breathing under control and not get too worked up. It felt like an eternity passed before the conference room door opened and Jethro appeared. The man wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders and led him back into the room, letting his presence help calm his distraught lover. Morrow sat back and watched and let Jethro do the talking.

“Fornell’s gonna oversee the investigation,” Gibbs said gently, bracing himself for whatever reaction Tony had.

“No,” Tony begged. “I don’t want everybody to know!”

“Everybody’s not gonna know,” Gibbs said. “It’s just Fornell. He’ll be working with our team, making sure everything stays above board.”

Tony’s increasingly harsh breathing and the fact that he was squeezing and tugging on his fingers told Jethro that Tony was headed for a meltdown. He calmly wrapped his fingers around Tony’s hand, stopping the nervous twitches and squeezed in an attempt to offer a little comfort. The clearly affectionate gesture clued Tony in to what else Jethro had spoken to Tom Morrow about.

“You told him?” he whispered. “About us?”

“I had to,” Jethro replied. “If I continue to investigate this and someone finds out down the road about our relationship, David Marshall could walk free.”

“I don’t care about what you and Jethro do in your free time, Agent DiNozzo,” Morrow assured him, “but I do care about getting justice for victims and making it stick.”

Victims. There was that word again and Morrow was clearly using it to define Tony. Tony hated the word already. It made him angry. It made him want to strangle Morrow.

“Okay, Tony?” Morrow asked. The concern was evident in his voice but for some reason that didn’t make Tony feel better.

“I guess it has to be, doesn’t it?” he snarked.

“I’m sorry, son,” Morrow said, favoring Tony with a sympathetic look as he stood. “I’ll give you two some time to yourselves before Fornell gets here.”

Gibbs nodded his thanks before scooting his chair closer to the one Tony had plopped down in. “I had no intention of telling Morrow about us,” he said, blankly staring out the window.

“Why did you?” The hurt in Tony’s voice stung at Gibbs’ heart.

“Morrow actually called me out on it,” Jethro replied, “told me I damn well better not lie to him. He didn’t care what you and I were doing but he didn’t wanna see Marshall walk free in the future because of it.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I do.”

“Jethro?”

“Hmm?”

“We, um, we’ve never really defined what’s going on between us except to agree that it was too dangerous to get too close,” Tony said.

The insecurity in Tony’s voice caught Jethro off guard and caused him to hold Tony even tighter and give the man his full attention. An overwhelming need to fix everything and take Tony’s pain away took over instantly. “Maybe it’s time to fix that, huh?” he replied.

“I think I would like that,” Tony said, letting himself start to relax. It would be nice to know where he stood with Jethro.

“Can we do it this evening? Fornell’s on his way over now. We need to bring him up to speed on this case.”

“I don’t wanna tell everybody everything.”

“We don’t have to tell everybody,” Jethro assured him once again. “It’s just Fornell overseeing things, McGee and I investigating and Abs with the evidence. Ducky and Jimmy don’t even have to know.”

“I’m tired, Jethro.”

“I know,” Jethro said, tucking his hand behind Tony’s neck and drawing the man forward into a manly embrace, “but you’re not alone anymore. I’m here. I’m right here.”


	9. Nowhere Left to Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m failing miserably at responding to reviews, guys, and I apologize sincerely for it! I’m spending every moment I can writing and trying to thank you for your reviews with frequent updates because hearing what you guys have to say and seeing the story through your eyes both inspires and encourages me to write more. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to drop me a line and letting me know how the story is affecting you. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me.

**Chapter Nine: Nowhere Left to Hide**

Tony rubbed at the nape of his neck, his eyes moving back and forth between Jethro and Fornell. He wasn’t in trouble and the educated law enforcement officer in him knew it but he couldn’t help but revert back to the impressionable teenager he once was, waiting for trouble to find him around every corner.

Jethro watched the nervous twitches and Tony’s attempt to soothe himself for a moment and decided to start out easy. He had the task of coaxing a lot of information out of Tony and as much as he hated it, it had to be done. Fornell being there only added to the pressure but that was necessary too. This wasn’t something they could sweep under the rug or keep quiet.

“When did you meet Christopher Tatum, Tony?” he asked.

Tony rubbed at his nose for a split second before his hand landed back in his lap and it was painfully obvious to everyone that he was trying desperately to be still and calm. “I don’t know him. We never met.”

Jethro had conducted enough interviews to know Tony was lying to him just by his body language alone. There was also the video clip Abby had showed him that proved Tony and Christopher had met at some point because both men were on screen together. “Tony,” he said calmly, “Tony, look at me.”

It wasn’t easy for Tony but he finally managed to make eye contact with Jethro. The fear and shame written all over his face had Jethro gritting his teeth together and trying not to show the anger that was bubbling just beneath the surface. “I don’t think you understood the question, Tony,” Jethro offered, knowing that any lies Tony told now could hurt the future prosecution of David Marshall. “This is all on record. Think back,” he said, pulling a photograph of Tatum out of the folder he’d brought in with him and laying it on the table in front of him. “Does he look familiar?”

“Mmm, nope,” Tony replied, quickly pushing the photograph back towards Gibbs.

“Tony, I’m trying to help you here,” Jethro said desperately.

“What?!” Tony snapped.

Jethro once again remained calm in the face of Tony’s anger. “I know you know Tatum. Why would lie about that? I don’t understand. Help me out here, Tony.”

“Why do you think I know him?” Tony demanded. The look on Jethro’s face was patient but told Tony he wasn’t going to get answer. A quick peek at Fornell showed the same patience but it only infuriated Tony more. “Fine!” he shouted, slamming both fists on the table. “I fucked him, okay? I fucked him so many times I lost count. I rammed my teenage dick up his ass while Marshall and Harding fondled his balls and sucked his cock.” The shouting died down and Tony’s voice trailed off for a moment before he continued quietly. “Then it was my turn to have my dick sucked on and my balls fondled while Chris pounded my ass.”

One look at the two men sitting across the table from him showed the pain and regret they felt at pushing him but Tony didn’t pity them. He didn’t pity them one bit. In fact, he decided since he was putting it all out there that he was going to put it _all_ out there. “And you know what else?” he continued, looking directly at Fornell. “Jethro and I are fucking too—just about every night before all this came out, because I’m a little slut. I like to fuck and be fucked! Although I’m not sure what’s gonna happen after this. I might have to find someone else to satisfy that urge now, you know, in case you’re interested or anything.”

The three men sat in silence for a long moment; Tony breathing heavily, Jethro simply trying to hold it together as he processed what had just happened and Fornell trying to keep a level head and deal with the situation at hand.

As Jethro studied the pain and hurt written all over Tony’s face and replayed the man’s words over and over again in his head he realized why Tony had attempted to leave that part of his past out—he blamed himself for some of the pain and suffering Chris was trying to work through and Tony knew firsthand what the man was going through because he was going through the same thing.

Fornell spoke before Jethro could confirm his assessment. “Why hide that from us, Tony?” he asked curiously.

Tony tilted his head, a confused expression on his face. “Because I didn’t wanna get in trouble.”

A quick glance at Gibbs told Fornell that the man was still beside himself and not in a position to continue the conversation so he stepped up and took over. “Why would you be in trouble?”

Tony frantically shook his head no as he rubbed and tugged on his hair.

Fornell decided to take a chance and push a little harder. “Let’s get it all out there, Tony. Let’s deal with this. Why would you be in trouble?”

“Because,” Tony said, his voice stressed and shaky, “he was crying.”

“Who was crying?” Fornell’s voice went from prodding to curious again. He leaned back in his chair comfortably and rested his arms on the arm rests, opening himself up. “Chris?”

Tony nodded, staring beyond Fornell at an invisible spot on the wall. “He didn’t want me to.”

“The way I see it,” Fornell replied, “you didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I didn’t wanna do it either,” Tony admitted quietly, “at least at first. But I still got hard…” His voice trailed off as he got lost in the memory.

“Just because you got an erection doesn’t mean you wanted to do it, Tony,” Fornell countered. “It’s a natural reaction for your body to have, especially when you’re a teenager with all those hormones in your bloodstream.”

“It felt good,” Tony continued. His anger was gone but his eyes were still fixed on nothing and he was speaking in a daze as he dredged up memories from long, long ago.

“You did what you had to do to survive the only way you knew how, Tony,” Gibbs said, jumping back into the conversation. “The reaction your body had, the way you felt—you can’t always control that.”

Tony blinked a couple times until there were once again signs of life in his eyes. He glanced at Fornell before locking eyes with Jethro. “David and Simon were so pleased that Chris and I were enjoying ourselves. They told us that all the time. It didn’t matter if we were scared or crying or jacking off or cuming; they were happy because we were happy.”

“If you tell a kid something enough times, Tony, they’ll start believing you,” Gibbs said. He knew that Tony knew that, they’d investigated enough cases involving kids together, but he also knew that Tony being in the middle of their current investigation made it difficult to step back and see things for what they were. Harding and Marshall had obviously done a very good job of brainwashing both Tony and Chris all those years ago.

“I guess,” Tony replied, before quickly moving on. “Are we almost done here? I’m really tired.”

The way Tony brushed off what he’d just said told Gibbs that Tony didn’t believe anything he’d just told him about what happening not being his fault but they’d already pushed him quite a bit and it had been a long day, full of blow ups and meltdowns. Gibbs wasn’t sure how much more he could take. There were a few more questions they needed answers to though. “What’s the connection between Simon Harding, David Marshall and Christopher Tatum?”

“As far as I understood Simon and Chris shared the same kind of… um, relationship? that David and I did,” Tony replied. “David and Simon met in a nightclub and bonded over similar interests. They seemed to have a little bit of a friendly competition going on but they weren’t opposed to getting us all together and having a little fun either.”

“Competition? What do you mean?”

“Do we have to keep doing this?” Tony asked, his voice pleading.

“Just hang with us a little longer, Tony,” Gibbs encouraged.

“Competitions over anything and everything,” Tony answered, “and Chris and I were the pawns.”

“Like what?” Fornell prodded.

“Like who could learn to deep throat first, which one of us could make them cum the fastest, stuff like that.”

“But the competitions were friendly?” Gibbs clarified.

“Yeah,” Tony answered, “they always seemed to get along great.”

“What about you and Chris?” Gibbs asked.

Tony shrugged. “We never really talked much. We were usually busy doing other things but yeah, we were just scared kids I guess. We did what we were told and they did a good job of making us feel special, making us feel like we were more than just their human pawns, their glorified sex toys.”

“How did it end?” Fornell asked.

“I got accepted to Ohio State,” Tony answered. “I thought David was gonna be pissed but he actually seemed happy for me. It took me awhile before I realized I’d gotten too old for him. Simon let Chris go around the same time. Chris didn’t have any other options so he enlisted in the Corps and that was that. The nightmare was over. Till now.”

“Ya did good, Tony,” Gibbs praised.

“Jethro?”

“Hmm?”

“Chris is a good guy. He’s not the type who’d track Harding down and murder him for the hell of it or even for what happened in the past. Simon had to have done something to provoke it. I’d bet my career on it.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Gibbs said with an understanding nod.

“What do you need from me, Jethro?” Fornell asked.

“I need you to take point on this,” Gibbs answered, “but it doesn’t go outside our team. This is sensitive, Tobias.”

“I get that,” Fornell said. “We have to tread lightly but it’s not gonna do anybody any good if our bad guy avoids jail because of a technicality.”

“ _That_ is why you’re here, Tobias,” Gibbs said with a devious smile on his face.

“Let’s get started,” Fornell replied. “Do we wanna order Chinese or pizza?”

Gibbs smiled and nodded at his friend, happy to have him on board. He was used to having Tony on point but that couldn’t happen in this case and he’d already experienced the void it had left. He trusted Fornell and having him around would help Gibbs get through it. “Tomorrow,” Gibbs said. “My team’s tired, Tobias. Tatum’s tired. It’s been a long couple days.”

“I’ll bring the donuts,” Fornell said.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony couldn’t believe how tired he felt. Sure, he hadn’t been sleeping that great lately but the night before he’d gotten well over the recommended eight hours and it wasn’t like he’d done anything physically exhausting that day. He groaned as he bent over just far enough to grab his bag from the floor and winced as he righted himself.

“You ready?” Jethro asked, taking Tony’s bag from him and slinging it over his own shoulder.

“Ready for what?” Tony asked. He felt like he should know the answer without having to ask but apparently his brain wasn’t functioning properly.

“To go,” Jethro answered.

“Where are we going?”

Jethro narrowed his eyes at Tony, wondering if the man was truly confused or if he was pulling his leg. “Home, Tony, we’re going home. Unless there’s somewhere else you need to go?”

“You want me to spend the night again?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Is this because Marshall showed up at my place?”

“No, it’s because…” Jethro paused and narrowed his eyes at Tony. “What did you say?” he asked.

“Shit,” Tony whispered when he realized what he’d said. He’d never told Jethro about Marshall breaking into his house.

“What else haven’t you told me, Tony?” Jethro asked dangerously.

“I don’t know!” Tony said, beginning to panic.

“When did Marshall break into your house?” Jethro watched as Tony hesitated and his heart dropped at the idea of the man continuing to hide from him. “Don’t lie to me, Tony.” He wasn’t sure if it was a request or warning; maybe a little of both.

Tony swallowed hard and looked away from Jethro in shame. “A couple nights ago,” he answered. “He was waiting for me when I got home from your place.”

“Damn it,” Jethro muttered. He’d been holding too much in for too long but finding out just how much danger Tony had been in scared him.

“I’m sorry!” Tony stammered, his voice begging his lover not to be angry with him.

Too anxious to do much more, Jethro wrapped his arm around Tony and pulled him into a hug, holding onto him tightly. Images of the beloved wife and daughter he hadn’t been able to protect flooded his memory and the idea of Tony meeting the same fate was suddenly overwhelming. The error in his ways was as clear as day and there was no longer any doubt in his mind about what he wanted out of their relationship.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Jethro asked softly, not expecting an answer. The only response he got was Tony melting into his strong embrace, letting go of all the fear and opening himself up to whatever Jethro was willing to give.


	10. What. A. Mess.

Not long after Jethro and Tony walked through the front door of Jethro’s home, the entire house smelled like any one of the best authentic Italian restaurants DC had to offer. Jethro turned the oven light on and knelt down on his bad knee to peer in at the lasagna, bubbling deliciously in the oven. It was his hope that Tony’s go-to comfort food would help settle his younger lover after the long, trying day he’d had. More than once Tony had gushed over how much he loved Jethro’s traditional American version of the traditional Italian dish.

“You about ready to eat?” he asked as he headed into the dining room where Tony was sitting quietly at the table. He rested his hands on Tony’s shoulders and squeezed firmly, letting the pressure work at the knots and tight muscles.

“Ow,” Tony whimpered, wincing even though it felt good.

Jethro put just enough pressure on the back of Tony’s neck to start working at the tension there as he leaned over and kissed his temple. “You’re too tense,” he said lovingly. “Try to relax. You’re safe here.” The massage continued and it wasn’t long before Tony let himself start to relax under the loving touches. “Don’t hold your breath,” Jethro instructed.

“Didn’t realize I was,” Tony admitted, taking a long, deep breath.

“That’s because you’re too damn tense,” Jethro said again with just enough playfulness in his voice to let Tony know his motives were nothing but loving. “Why don’t you pour the wine while I get the lasagna outta the oven?”

“Um, Jethro, do you, uh, do you have any white milk?” Tony asked hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Could I have that instead?”

“If that’s what you want,” Jethro answered, trying to hide the worry in his tone. “What happened to not messing with tradition?” Tony had always been adamant that pasta with red sauce was only to be enjoyed with red wine and Jethro had never seen him drink a glass of milk at any time of day.

Tony shrugged halfheartedly as he stepped past Jethro and headed for the refrigerator.

Jethro looked on with worry for a moment before grabbing the bottle of sweet red wine from the table and following Tony into the kitchen. “Pour me some milk too, will ya?”

Tony turned back towards Jethro in surprise and the two shared a hesitant smile, both studying the other one, trying their best to read the unreadable expressions and body language. Tony, not wanting Jethro to question him, filled both wine glasses on the table with white milk, no questions asked and settled back into his seat. He’d never felt quite so out of place in Jethro’s home. In fact, that was usually where he felt the most at home but now there were so many questions about their relationship and neither of them were very good at talking about such things.

Tony certainly didn’t want to be the one to bring it up either, for fear of learning that he had too much baggage for Jethro. There was a big part of him that had always felt unlovable and unworthy and even dirty and used. He knew full well that that didn’t exactly make him a catch in anyone’s eyes.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Jethro said, carefully depositing the family size dish on the trivet in the middle of the table.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been hungry. His nerves were beyond messed up and it was affecting his stomach but he’d try to eat enough to avoid the questions about his lack of appetite. “Looks good,” he replied nervously.

Tony’s tone cause enough worry for Jethro to drop his head low enough to catch the man’s eyes. “You alright?”

“Just tired,” Tony lied. Well, he was tired but worry about stomaching the food was at the forefront of his mind.

Jethro served up two large portions and settled in across the table. He watched worriedly as Tony picked at the food on his plate with no enthusiasm for his favorite cuisine. He hated asking again but he couldn’t help it. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Tony answered, “it’s good. Thank you.”

“I didn’t use the ‘Ragu crap’,” Jethro teased, employing air quotes. They’d had more than one argument about when it was and wasn’t appropriate to use jarred spaghetti sauce (it was for emergency situations only, Tony insisted) and which jarred sauces were okay in said situations (Prego was absolutely the only sauce it was okay to have on hand).

Tony grinned and ducked his head in a way that Jethro found adorable as he recalled the silly arguments. “Guess I’m just not that hungry,” he replied, laying his fork on his plate and resting his hand on the table.

Jethro reached across the table and fingered Tony’s fingers, rubbing his fingers across the other man’s and studying his face for a clue about what might be bothering him.

Tony watched as Jethro played with his fingers for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Jethro asked. “I’ll try to explain it to you.”

“I’ve got all this baggage,” Tony huffed, angry at himself and his past for making him undesirable. “I’m used and dirty but you’re still touching me, rubbing my back, hugging me, holding my hand and you choose now to invite me into your home, to spend the night together and play house and be—” he hesitated, searching for the right word, “normal. I don’t get it.”

Jethro narrowed his eyes in angry confusion as his fork fell to his plate with a loud clang. “Is that what you think? Is that how you see yourself? Because it’s sure as hell not how I see you.” He stood from the table and walked around to where Tony was sitting.

Tony stood, more out of intimidation than anything, and immediately found himself surrounded by Jethro’s arms and the man wasn’t simply hugging him, he was holding on for dear life.

“You’re not dirty, Tony. You’re not used and the only way I’ll ever stop touching you is if you ask me to but please don’t do that.”

Tony relaxed slightly in Jethro’s embrace, replaying the man’s words over and over again in his head until they were forever etched in his memory. He desperately wanted to believe him but years of doubt kept getting in the way.

“Sometimes things happen, Tony, that open our eyes in a way that can’t be explained,” Jethro said. “They show us what’s been there all along but they show us in a way that forces us to take action.”

“So, what? Now that you know I was raped you, what? Feel sorry for me or something? You think you can make it better by changing our relationship status from ‘it’s complicated’ to ‘in a relationship’?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Jethro sighed. “Damn it, Tony, I’m not very good at this.”

“I don’t understand!” Tony said, trying to stop himself from getting worked up.

“Finding out Marshall had been in your apartment; how quickly, how easily I could’ve lost you without ever really even having you,” Jethro looked Tony in the eye, trying desperately to convey how he truly felt, “that’s not okay with me, Tony. I have to at least try. I care about you. I want something more than a series of,” he hesitated, wishing there was a different way to sum up their past relationship, “one night stands with you.”

“I won’t tell Ducky you admitted that,” Tony said, trying to break the tension with a little humor. “You aren’t afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” Jethro asked. “You a closet serial killer?”

Tony smiled. “No, but I’m dirty. Used. You don’t want proof that I’m not gonna give you some horrible disease?”

“I trust you,” Jethro replied.

Tony nodded, taking in the conversation. “I’ve been tested multiple times,” he said quietly. “I know I’m clean. There’s nothing wrong with me; nothing stopping me from having a perfectly normal relationship, but I feel like when people find out they just see me as dirty and diseased. Like they better stay away or they might catch whatever I have.”

Jethro wrapped his arms around Tony and held him tightly. He buried his nose in Tony’s hair, inhaling the familiar scent. In that moment he felt closer to Tony than he ever had in the past. When Tony tilted his head up, Jethro rubbed noses with him before letting their lips meet. He brushed his fingers across Tony’s cheeks as the kiss ended and simply smiled at him.

“I really am clean,” Tony said desperately.

“You don’t have to persuade me, Tony. I believe you. And I’ve never thought of you as dirty or used or diseased. I’m sorry it took all this coming to light for me get my head on straight but I’m glad you don’t have the burden of that secret anymore and I’m thankful for the opportunity to do what I can to help you through this. You’re not alone. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, clad only in a pair of pajama pants, watching as Jethro shaved and brushed his teeth with a towel wrapped around his waist after his shower. The man winked at him as he walked past the bed on the way to the closet to grab his work clothes.

“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” Tony asked.

“Wish ya could,” Jethro said apologetically. “The bullpen feels empty without the team’s very special agent.”

Tony smiled halfheartedly. “I could just watch or keep you company or something.”

Jethro stepped out of the closet with a pair of pants on but hanging open and walked over to where Tony was sitting on the bed. He caught the man’s attention and offered him a concerned smile. “I don’t want you anywhere near this, Tony. We gotta keep everything above board so nobody can ever say anything that might get Marshall outta jail.”

“We gotta get him in jail first,” Tony pointed out.

Jethro grabbed a white undershirt from his dresser drawer and pulled it on over his head. “We will,” he said confidently. “You gonna be okay today?”

Tony nodded, watching as Jethro carefully chose which color polo shirt he was going to wear.

“Will you be here when I get home tonight?” Jethro asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

Jethro paused on the way to the bathroom to brush his hair and looked down at Tony. “Do you want one?”

“Not really,” Tony answered. “I just don’t wanna overstay my welcome. This is gonna take some getting used to.”

“I know,” Jethro said. “I agree but we get to do it together. I want you here tonight, Tony, but if you feel like you need some space I can arrange a hotel room and a protection detail.” It broke his heart to make the offer but he understood the dangers of holding on too tightly. His exes had done that to him which was one of the reasons they were exes.

“I’ll be here,” Tony assured the man. “I’m just gonna run by my place and grab some clothes and maybe hit the grocery store.”

Images of David Marshall waiting in Tony’s apartment flashed in Jethro’s mind and he couldn’t help but feel protective. “I’ll send someone over to go with you.”

Tony rolled his eyes but smiled at the comment. “Send Dorney,” he said. “No need pulling Balboa away from whatever he’s working on.”

Jethro hesitated briefly before nodding. He smiled at how well Tony knew him. Balboa would always be his first choice. The man had years of experience in the field, but Tony was right. Dorney could handle this assignment. “I’ll see you tonight, Tony.”

The two shared a quick kiss before Jethro headed out and Tony stepped into the bathroom to get his shower out of the way before Ned arrived.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

The short order cook at the diner Jethro frequented took the cake part of his pancakes very seriously. His fluffy flapjacks were some of the sweetest you could find in the DC metro and everyone liked them that way. Jethro’s mouth watered as he headed for the Navy Yard with three orders in to go boxes in the seat next to him. Christopher Tatum was no longer a suspect but Jethro still needed to get the guy to open up to him and he was relying on the same basics he used for interrogations to accomplish the feat. Trust was key and sharing a meal was a good way to begin to establish trust.

He arrived at headquarters a little later than he normally did but it was still early, Fornell made sure to remind him as they walked into the building together.

“We got a lot to do today, Tobias,” was Jethro’s response. “Where’re we at, McGee?”

“No hits on our BOLO for Marshall,” Tim reported. “Tatum’s waiting for you in the conference room.”

“Send Dorneget over to my house,” Gibbs ordered. “He’s on protection detail with Tony this morning.”

“On it.”

“Let’s go, Tobias.”

Gibbs led the way to the conference room and set their breakfast out on the table. He slid one container over to Fornell, put one by the seat across from Tatum, where he planned on sitting then set one down in front of the frightened Marine and popped the lid open as he assessed Tatum’s condition. The man’s shoulders were hiked up almost to his ears, his leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table and he was avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Morning, Christopher,” Gibbs greeted.

“Sir.”

“Agent Gibbs,” Gibbs corrected, “or just Gibbs. How’re you this morning?”

“I, uh, I don’t understand, Si—Agent Gibbs.”

“It’s a simple question,” Gibbs said nonchalantly.

“I’m okay,” Tatum answered, completely at a loss as to what was going on. He watched as Gibbs and Fornell spread butter and poured syrup over their pancakes before they started eating. “May I ask what I’m doing here, Sir?”

“Special Agent Gibbs,” Gibbs corrected again, “and I thought we could start with some breakfast.”

“Trust me,” Fornell said around a mouthful of pancake, “Jethro has awful taste in coffee, the stuff he drinks will eat a hole in your stomach, but these pancakes are fantastic. Eat up.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Tatum said, poking at his pancakes with his fork.

“Tony hasn’t been very hungry lately either,” Gibbs said. He didn’t miss the spark of recognition in Tatum’s eyes.

“Sir?”

“You know Tony,” Gibbs prodded casually before taking another bite of his breakfast.

“I guess I’ve known a few,” Tatum replied cryptically.

“Tony DiNozzo.”

“I’m not good with last names, Sir—er—Special Agent Gibbs.”

“That’s okay,” Gibbs said with a reassuring smile. “Let’s talk about Simon Harding, Chris.”

Tatum swallowed hard and had a difficult time meeting Gibbs’ gaze. “Who?”

“The guy you killed.”

“Oh. Right. Him.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you wanna know?” Tatum asked hesitantly.

“Let’s start with how you knew him,” Gibbs replied, pushing his breakfast back and grabbing his coffee.

“I don’t. Or I didn’t.”

“Then why were you at the park?” Fornell asked while Gibbs drank his coffee.

“I was supposed to be meeting someone,” Tatum answered. “They never showed.”

“Who were you meeting?” Fornell continued.

“I—I really couldn’t say.”

“Do you know what I think, Chris?” Gibbs said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “I think Harding lured you to that park; something happened there and he either forced you to kill him in self-defense of it was an accident. What I can’t figure out is how a guy that you claim you didn’t know lured you somewhere.”

“He didn’t,” Tatum replied hesitantly. “I told you, I was there to meet someone else. I didn’t know Simon.”

“Simon?” Gibbs asked.

“Harding,” Tatum corrected with frustration in his tone and a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t believe you, Chris,” Gibbs said gently. “You can lie to me till you’re blue in the face but I know you knew Harding.”

Tatum recoiled at the accusation and Gibbs knew he was losing him. He could feel it. Coaxing information out of Tatum was going to take time and patience, two things he didn’t have much of at the moment.

“Can I get you anything?” Gibbs asked, changing gears before the Marine completely closed himself off.

Tatum simply shook his head and watched as Gibbs grabbed the Styrofoam carton that had held his breakfast and tossed it into the trashcan and Fornell followed his lead.

“Sit tight,” Gibbs said, “we’ll be back in a bit. There’s an agent on the other side of this door if you need anything.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Gibbs and Fornell spent the entire morning and the better part of the afternoon going back and forth between the conference room to talk to Tatum and the rest of the building to check in with the team and update the director. By the time the sun started setting, both agents were frustrated by the fact that another day had passed and they knew nothing more than had when they’d arrived that morning.

“Maybe we should bring Tony in,” Fornell suggested hesitantly. When his friend didn’t blow up at the suggestion he continued. “They were both victimized by the same men. Tony had the courage to open up; maybe he can help give Tatum the same courage.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea or not,” Jethro said, “but we’re running out of options.”

“We are,” Fornell agreed.

“Let me talk to Tony. If he’s willing, we’ll give it a shot.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony mumbled and grumbled under his breath as he shuffled through the few hanging clothes he’d retrieved from his house. When he was packing them up to bring to Jethro’s it seemed like he’d brought far too much but now that he was at Jethro’s and trying to choose something to wear it felt like he had far too little to choose from.

“What’s wrong?” Dorney asked.

“I don’t know what to wear,” Tony panicked.

“What are you gonna be doing?” Dorney knew Gibbs had called and summoned them to the Navy Yard but beyond that he wasn’t too sure what was going on or even why Tony needed a protection detail.

“Talking to a witness,” Tony answered. “Or suspect. I’m not exactly sure how to classify the guy to be honest. Jethro’s having a hard time getting him to open up and asked me to give it a shot.” Tony couldn’t have been more excited about getting the phone call. He was excited about finally feeling needed and thrilled at the prospect of actually being helpful. Terrified, but thrilled.

“Well, if you want him to feel comfortable enough to open up to you I’d try something a little more casual,” Dorney suggested.

Tony thought for a moment before nodding his head. “Okay, yeah, good idea,” he said, abandoning the suits hanging in the closet and making a beeline for the duffle bag on the floor. “Button up shirt?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dorney agreed, “and jeans. That should do the trick.”

“Thanks, Dorney,” Tony said with a renewed sense of confidence. So many things were out of his control that he found himself holding tightly to the few things he could control, like his appearance. It was nice to have someone around who could offer a little perspective when he got stuck in his headspace.

He carefully chose a button up shirt and tucked it into his jeans and after slipping his feet into a pair of casual dress shoes, he and Dorneget headed out the front door, got into the car and took off towards the Navy Yard. With most of the rush hour traffic going in the opposite direction, it didn’t take long for them to reach their destination which only created more anxiety for Tony. He couldn’t help but feel like he was standing outside the conference room door far too soon and completely unprepared.

“Tony?” Gibbs asked, trying to catch the man’s eyes.

“Huh?”

“Where’s your head at?” Gibbs asked softly.

“Here,” Tony replied quickly. “I’m all here. I got this.”

“Just go in there and talk to him as a friend, Tony,” Fornell said. “Don’t worry about being an investigator or getting answers or anything like that. Just try to help him relax. We’ll be right out here the whole time.”

Tony nodded and after one last look at Gibbs for reassurance, walked through the door his lover held open for him. “Hi Chris,” he said.

“What’re you doing here?” Tatum asked hesitantly.

“Same thing you are,” Tony answered with a shrug. “Trying to figure out what the hell happened all those years ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The awkward laugh Tatum added onto the end of his statement gave away his lie.

“Sure you do,” Tony replied. “There’re no cameras in here, Chris, no two way mirrors or bugs or anything like that. It’s just us.”

Tatum studied Tony carefully for a long moment, trying to figure out how much everyone knew and how he could ask without giving anything away. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Tony about it being just them in the room.

“How’ve you been?” Tony asked, relaxing into his chair.

“We’re not friends, Tony.”

“I know.”

“You don’t get it. You made something of your life and I’m just,” Tatum looked down at his uniform and frowned, “about to go to jail.”

“You think this isn’t hard for me?” Tony asked, not hiding his annoyance. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“It’s not the same,” Tatum insisted.

“I get it, Chris. I really do,” Tony replied in a calm but pleading tone. “You have this life and it may not be much, hell, maybe it’s built on a foundation of lies like mine was but it’s all you’ve got and now that’s being threatened and all you can think of is ‘haven’t I been through enough?’ and ‘what else do I have to lose?’ and stuff like that but you can’t keep hiding. You can’t bury it anymore. It’s time to tell our story. It sucks but I figure there’s really never gonna be a good time for any of this to come out.”

“Then why now?” Chris asked quietly. “Why tell anyone at all? Why can’t we just go on like we have been for the last decade?”

“Because now we have a chance for justice,” Tony answered. “David Marshall belongs in jail, not you. I don’t know what went down in that park that caused you to kill Harding but I’m guessing it was justified. Tell Gibbs. You can trust him. Let him help you.”

“I was wrong,” Tatum said, trying to smile. “You do get it. I—I just thought it wasn’t hard for you anymore since you have this job and friends and stuff.”

“You have a job,” Tony pointed out gently, “and aren’t Marines supposed to be closer than brothers?”

“None of them know how messed up I am,” Tatum confided. “It’s hard to really get close to anybody when there’s this secret part of you that you know you can never talk about. My life is built on a foundation of lies.”

“It’s time to fix that,” Tony said. “It’s time for both of us to fix that.”

Tatum nodded and Tony offered him a genuine smile before going to get Gibbs and Fornell. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked before opening the door. He would stay if Chris wanted him to but he knew from personal experience that the more people there were in the room, the more pressure there was.

“Thanks but I think I got this.”

Tony traded places with Gibbs and Fornell, knowing it was unnecessary but pleading with them anyways to take it easy on Tatum, then he headed off towards the bullpen to wait while the two men went in to question Tatum for what they all hoped was the last time.

“Can I get you anything?” Jethro offered as they settled in again.

“No thank you, Agent Gibbs.” It had taken him all day but he’d finally dropped the sir. He swallowed hard, knowing what he had to do, but for some reason it had seemed easier before he found himself sitting across from a proud, confident Marine and investigator when he felt so weak and unsure of himself.

“Take your time,” Gibbs coaxed.

"I don't wanna remember, Sir."

"I know, Son."

Tatum’s eyes fell to his lap before he started talking. "You can't rape the willing. That's what he always said. He said it so many times I actually started believing it. I think I still do."

“Who’s ‘he’, Chris?” Gibbs asked.

“Simon. Simon Harding.”

“Keep going,” Gibbs prodded.

“When I was thirteen…”

Gibbs and Fornell listened quietly as Tatum told a story almost identical to the one Tony had told; one of empty promises and false hopes, one of deceit and trickery that ended in a teen being taken advantage of. The similarities were both striking and spooky. Tatum had also come from a single parent home and that parent, his father, all but left him to fend for himself. His mother had died during childbirth leaving him an only child to be raised by nannies, yet craving his father’s attention. He and Tony very easily could’ve been brothers if not twins.

“What happened at Rock Creek Park?” Gibbs asked when Tatum was done telling his story.

“It was kind of an accident,” Tatum answered.

“Kind of?”

Tatum shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sorry he’s dead,” the Marine whispered, briefly meeting Gibbs’ gaze.

“That doesn’t make it any less of an accident,” Gibbs pointed out. “What happened out there, Chris?”

“I was—I was out for a jog and, you know how you can kinda feel someone watching you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It took me awhile to spot him but when I did I panicked,” Tatum continued. “He was on a park bench. When our eyes met he came over to me. I wanted to run away but I just froze.” Tatum’s face paled and his pupils widened. Sweat formed on his brow telling both agents his anxiety level was rising.

“Hey, Chris,” Gibbs said calmly. He waited until Tatum made eye contact before continuing. “Relax. Take a deep breath. You’re safe here.”

Tatum took a shuddery deep breath while nodding his head frantically. “I know,” he said, even though he didn’t really feel safe. “S-Simon, he touched me, he grabbed my crotch, said-said it was good to see me. He said he missed me and he knew I missed him too. He wanted me to go behind the bushes with him but I couldn’t. I-I couldn’t do that again.”

“Do what again?” Gibbs asked. “What did he want you to do?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“I know this is difficult, Chris, but we need to know.”

“He wanted a blow job,” Tatum said, shaking his head as his eyes glistened with unshed tears, “but I didn’t wanna do that again. I couldn’t. I felt sick to my stomach.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Gibbs said, giving him a moment to pull himself together. “What happened after that?”

“I shook my head no, that I wasn’t gonna go with him but he grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind my back and tried to force me. I—I got him in a chokehold but I screwed up. I… I snapped his neck. It-it all happened so fast. He was, he was just dead, all of a sudden. I just didn’t wanna go in the bushes, Sir.”

“I understand,” Gibbs said. “Calm down. We’ll figure this out.”

“I just didn’t wanna go in the bushes,” Tatum repeated.

“I know, Son,” Gibbs said, sharing a devastated look with Fornell. Tatum wasn’t holding it together anywhere near as well as Tony was and Gibbs had the sneaking suspicion that it had nothing to do with the possibility of a murder conviction hanging over his head. Tony had a support system, a family not connected by DNA but by something stronger. Christopher Tatum had nothing but Gibbs had no intention of leaving him lost and alone. He would do whatever he could to help the man. “I think that’s enough for today,” he said. “I’m gonna have Agent McGee take you back to the safe house so you can get some rest while I figure this out.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Tatum said.

“There’s no need to apologize, Marine,” Gibbs said as he stood. “McGee’ll be in in just a minute.”

“Thank you.”

Gibbs followed Fornell into the hallway and closed the door behind them. He couldn’t believe he was having such a difficult time holding it together but he saw so much of Tony in Christopher and his desire to fix things was stronger than ever yet there was little he could do to fix this. He looked at his longtime friend and shook his head in disbelief. “What a mess, Tobias. What. A. Mess.”


	11. The Long Haul

“What’re you—are you drinking orange juice?” Fornell asked in shock.

Jethro looked at the glass in his hand then back at his friend and nodded. “Something wrong with orange juice, Tobias?” he asked as they headed towards the conference room where a JAG prosecutor was waiting for them.

“I just didn’t think you drank anything but coffee,” Fornell snarked.

“For your information I have a glass of orange juice every morning,” Jethro said matter-of-factly. “I was running behind this morning so I’m drinking it here, if that’s okay with?”

Fornell held his hands up in surrender before stopping the teasing and moving on to a serious question. “How’s Tony doing?”

“He’s the reason I was running late,” Jethro confided. “He’s been having nightmares.”

“I’m sorry, Jethro.”

Me too,” Jethro replied quietly as they arrived at their destination. Even though he’d brought it up by answering Fornell’s question truthfully, he was thankful the conversation was coming to an end. He finished off the last of his juice as he opened the door and entered the room ahead of his friend.

“Lieutenant Commander Owen Gage, Sir.” The man waiting in the room introduced himself as he stood to shake hands with the agents.

“Special Agent Gibbs,” Jethro replied, shaking the man’s hand first, “and this is FBI Agent Tobias Fornell. Have you been briefed on this case?”

“I’ve gone over everything your office sent over,” Gage replied, “including what came in late last night. Our office is prepared to offer Staff Sergeant Tatum a general discharge and inpatient treatment to be reevaluated at a later date.”

“Right down to business,” Fornell commented.

“We have new information as of this morning’s interview with Staff Sergeant Tatum,” Jethro replied. “He felt threatened. The man who’d victimized him when he was a teen was back and trying to force him into the bushes so he could assault him again. General discharge and mandated _outpatient_ therapy until his therapist deems it no longer necessary. This guy’s a Marine without so much as a parking ticket on his record. He does need help working through this but he doesn’t belong locked away somewhere he’s gonna end up being all but forgotten about.”

“Where’s his lawyer?” Gage asked.

“He’s refusing legal counsel,” Jethro answered, “but if your office tries to snowball him I _will_ get him a lawyer and you will regret ever stepping into this building.”

“You know how hard it is to get juries to convict when the dead guy’s a rapist,” Fornell added, “and if you’ve been stationed at the Navy Yard for even a single day you know Special Agent Gibbs wouldn’t be pushing for this deal if Tatum was a threat to himself or others. Take the deal, Gage. Everybody wins.”

Lieutenant Commander Gage contemplated everything that had been said before nodding his head slightly in agreement. It wasn’t his intent to railroad anyone but he couldn’t come off as a pushover either. He was still trying to make his way in the prosecutor’s office. Regardless, considering the new information the deal seemed more than fair and it allowed them the opportunity to get Christopher Tatum the therapeutic help he needed to get his life back on track. “I’ll send over the paperwork this afternoon.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tim sat at his desk, jabbing his fingers into his keyboard harder than necessary in frustration. It had been days since he’d put out a BOLO on David Marshall yet there hadn’t been a single hit. So far he hadn’t had to endure the wrath of Gibbs yet but that was only because his boss had been preoccupied with Tony and Tatum and everything else that was happening. The junior agent knew it wouldn’t be long before the man’s patience ran out.

He jumped at the sudden presence behind him but relaxed again when Abby’s arms slipped over his shoulders and her head came to rest against his.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked.

“Trying to find David Marshall before Gibbs loses his patience,” Tim grumped.

“No hits on your BOLO?”

“Not a single one. He hasn’t tried to access his bank account, hasn’t been seen at the bus stations, train stations, airports or rental car agencies, hasn’t showed up at his apartment. The guy’s like a ghost or something. Where is he, Abby?”

“I wish I knew but he’ll turn up,” Abby replied confidently. “He can’t hide forever.”

“Yeah, well, it better be soon,” Tim said. “I’m running out of time.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

“Why would these guys take an interest in Tony and Tatum again,” Fornell asked as the two headed for a different conference room where Christopher Tatum was waiting for them. “After all these years, there’s no way in hell it’s a coincidence.”

Jethro contemplated the question for only a moment before something clicked in his head. “These guys are game players and Tony and Chris were their pawns,” he said. “What if they made one more bet; who could get their ‘boy’ to come back to them first?”

“That would explain it,” Fornell agreed. “It cost Harding his life.”

“And Marshall’s still playing the game,” Jethro said. “Him showing up at Tony’s place after Harding was dead made that perfectly clear.”

“That’s ballsy, Jethro,” Fornell said, “going after a Marine and a federal agent.”

“High stakes.”

The two shared a knowing look before Jethro opened the door to the conference room Tatum was waiting in and entered. “Morning, Chris.”

Tatum sat quietly at the table, ignoring the coffee and bag containing the breakfast burritos that had been delivered to him. Jethro knew from reports from the agents who’d been staying with him that the Marine still wasn’t eating.

“We spoke with JAG this morning, Chris,” Jethro said. “They’re willing to offer you a general discharge from the Marine Corp and outpatient therapy. No jail. No dishonorable discharge.”

“Is that fair?” Tatum asked hesitantly. “I don’t know what I should do, Sir.”

“Well, if you decide to go to trial there’s a pretty fair chance you’d be acquitted,” Jethro explained, squirming in his chair when his stomach started rumbling and gurgling, “but this way you could get the help you need to pick up the pieces and really start living your life again. If you go to trial, everything from your past will be brought up and there’s always a chance you won’t walk out there.”

“What would you do, Agent Gibbs?”

Jethro tilted his head, wanting to answer the question but knowing he shouldn’t. “That’s a decision you’re gonna have to make on your own, Marine,” he replied. He was once again squirming in his seat as sharp pains shot through his stomach. Something wasn’t sitting well with him. “Or I can get a lawyer in here to talk it over with you.”

“I hate thinking about it, but I know I need the help,” Tatum admitted quietly, “and a general discharge from the Marines sounds pretty good at this point.” He looked up, meeting Jethro’s eyes and nodded with confidence. “I’ll take the deal.”

“You alright, Jethro?” Fornell asked when he noticed the man’s face paling and sweat dripping from his brow.

“’m fine,” Jethro lied. He tried to stand but was immediately dizzy and fell back into chair.

“Ya don’t look fine.” Fornell was at Jethro’s side in an instant, hollering for the agent standing guard in the hall, who he could only hope hadn’t wandered off when they’d showed up.

Seconds later the agent poked his head in the door. “You guys call?”

“Call 911, get an ambulance over here,” Fornell ordered, “then get Ducky up here now.”

“I’m fine,” Jethro insisted again, despite his still rumbling stomach. “Just help me to the bathroom, will ya?”

“Go,” Fornell ordered the agent one last time as he helped Jethro to his feet. “Sit tight, Chris.”

“Yes, Sir.”

By the time Ducky arrived upstairs, Jethro was doubled over the toilet throwing up while Fornell stood by helplessly. The doctor calmly questioned Fornell about the morning’s events while assessing Gibbs’ condition as best as he could amidst the heaving and hurling. It quickly became clear that this wasn’t a simple stomach bug or even the flu. Something was very wrong.

“What’s going on, Ducky?” Fornell asked.

“I don’t know,” Ducky answered. “I don’t like how pale he is and I especially don’t like how fast his heart’s beating. We need to get him to the hospital _now_.”

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Tony shuffled through the bottles and jars in the refrigerator in search of the strawberry jam. He really wasn’t hungry but he knew he needed to eat something and he thought he might be able to get some toast covered in jam down, that way, if Jethro asked, he could at least tell the man he’d eaten something.

The bread in the toaster popped up just as he grabbed the jam but his ringing phone distracted him from his breakfast. He grabbed it off the counter and frowned when he didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID.

“Hello?” he answered cautiously.

_“Anthony! So good to hear your voice again.”_

Tony had to fight the urge to vomit in the kitchen sink at the sound of David Marshall’s voice and despite having so much he wanted to say to the man, he couldn’t seem to get any words out. He didn’t understand why he always seemed to freeze in the man’s presence or at the sound of his voice but it was getting to be increasingly frustrating.

_“I won’t keep you long, Sweet Anthony. I just called to tell you I’m not a monster. I warned you.”_

“Warned me?” Tony questioned.

_“All you had to do was listen and obey, just like you did in the past, and then I wouldn’t have had to poison Gibbs.”_

“Gibbs?”

_“It’s your fault, Tony. You did this to him.”_

Tony quickly disconnected the call with Marshall, not caring about the possible consequences, and frantically dialed Jethro’s number. His heart sank when it wasn’t immediately answered on the first couple rings and nearly stopped beating when it was Fornell’s voice on the other end of the line instead of Jethro’s. “No,” he whispered.

_“He’s alive, Tony,”_ Fornell said quickly. _“Ducky thinks we caught it in time.”_

“Where is he?” Tony choked out.

_“Washington General,”_ Fornell answered. _“Dorneget’s on his way to pick you up. We didn’t want you to be alone when you heard the news.”_ He paused for a moment as something clicked. _“How did you hear the news?”_ There was no way Dorneget had made it to Alexandria yet.

“Marshall called me,” Tony answered, abandoning his toast and putting his shoes on so he’d be ready to go when Dorneget arrived. And if Dorneget hadn’t arrived by the time he was ready to go, Tony would take the truck. “He told me he poisoned Jethro and that it was all my fault because I didn’t obey him.”

_“Obey him?”_

“I wasn’t supposed to tell Jethro.”

_“You know this isn’t your fault, Tony.”_

“I know. Dorneget’s here. I gotta go.”

_“See ya in a minute.”_

Fornell watched Jethro through the window as he talked to Tony out in the hall. After hanging up with Tony he called McGee and had him run a trace on Tony’s incoming calls in hopes of catching a break on Marshall’s location. It had been awhile since a criminal had evaded them for so long and it was especially frustrating considering the man kept popping up right in their backyards.

After a quick conversation with McGee, he stepped back into Jethro’s room. “How ya feelin’?”

“Like hell,” Jethro answered, his voice raspy from all the vomiting. “What happened?” Everything had happened so fast and he’d been in so much pain that he hadn’t really grasped what was happening.

“Nicotine poisoning,” Fornell answered. “You’re lucky Ducky caught on to what was going on so quickly. He knew what was happening right away otherwise, I gather, the situation could’ve been much worse.”

“What did I eat?” Jethro asked. His stomach still felt like hell and he had an awful taste in his mouth.

“There’s a forensics team on the way to your house right now to try to figure that out.”

“No, I mean just now.”

“You sure you wanna know?”

Jethro glared at his friend in response.

“They gave you activated charcoal to try to stop the poison from being absorbed into your body or something over my head. All I know is it seemed to work. You don’t remember drinking it?”

“I vaguely remember someone telling me to swallow so I swallowed.”

“Probably tasted like your coffee,” Fornell reasoned with a smirk.

Another glare from Jethro was interrupted when Tony came racing into the room. “Tony, what’re you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” Tony asked. Seeing Jethro awake and talking and appearing normal for the most part turned worry into anger and even though it wasn’t Jethro that he was angry at, it was far too easy to take his anger out on him. “I told you this would happen! But no, you said you could protect yourself. You said you could protect me and now look at you. You’re in a hospital. A HOSPITAL, JETHRO! You almost died!”

“I didn’t almost die, Tony,” Jethro replied, looking to Fornell for help. He still didn’t feel the greatest and seeing Tony so upset made him hurt physically.

“Actually, you kind of did,” Fornell said apologetically. “We’d like to test you too, Tony.”

“I’m fine,” Tony replied. “He didn’t poison me.”

“Who?” Jethro asked.

“David Marshall,” Tony answered. “He called to tell me he’d poisoned you and that it was all my fault.”

“Tony—”

Tony held his hand up and shook his head, stopping Jethro from continuing. He needed a minute. The fear and anxiety and adrenaline had him all worked up and needed time to process everything before he said or did something he couldn’t take back. “I’m sorry I yelled,” he said. “I’m not angry at you. I was just—I don’t know, scared.”

“C’mere,” Jethro said, holding his hand out.

Tony stepped over to the bed and took hold of Jethro’s hand, trying to process the fact that Jethro was alive and he was going to be okay, hoping it would allow his body to calm down. “What happened to your teeth?” he asked, turning his nose up.

“You don’t wanna know,” Jethro grunted.

“Well I’m not kissing you till you brush ‘em,” Tony teased, finally letting himself smile. “How long are they keeping you?”

“Probably not as long as they think,” Jethro replied. “As soon as I can move without having to worry about throwing up again, I’m outta here.”

Tony shared a knowing smirk with Fornell before the man excused himself to get back to work, leaving them alone in the room. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my stomach might explode if I even think about moving the wrong way,” Jethro answered, “but I am feeling better.”

“I’m sorry, Jethro.”

“Tony, this isn’t your fault,” Jethro said firmly.

“If I hadn’t told you—”

“If you hadn’t told me Marshall would still be out there terrorizing you and doing God knows what to an unknown number of teenagers,” Jethro said, cutting off Tony’s statement. “I’m fine. I don’t care about this,” he said, indicating his still gurgling stomach. “All I want is you, safe, and David Marshall behind bars.”

“I’m still sorry,” Tony whispered. Logically he knew it wasn’t his fault but his heart still ached with the knowledge that if Jethro didn’t mean so much to him, Marshall never would’ve gone after him.

A nurse poked her head in the door and smiled at the two men. “We’re ready to test you now, Agent DiNozzo.”

“I’m fine,” Tony replied. “I don’t need to be tested.”

“It’ll just be real quick,” the nurse prodded. “Just a urine sample and I’ll be outta your hair. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“No needles? All I gotta do is pee in a cup?” Tony asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I think I can handle that.”

After giving the nurse the sample she’d come to collect, Tony pulled a chair up to Jethro’s hospital bed and settled in for the long haul. He had no idea how long they’d be there but he’d stay for as long as it took. He wasn’t walking out of that hospital without Jethro.


	12. Work In Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Thanks for sticking with me on this one and for all the reviews, support and encouragement! Now on to something a little less intense.

Gibbs leaned casually against the desk in Abby’s lab with his hand resting on his belly. He was trying to hide the discomfort without being too obvious about it but judging by the looks he was getting from everyone on his team, it wasn’t working. He wanted to snap at them—order them back to work and go lick his wounds in private, but he was weak and tired and slightly afraid his voice would betray the strong image he was trying to project. Tony was standing closer than normal and Gibbs wasn’t sure if he was feeling protective or wanting protection. He seemed fragile lately and Gibbs was still trying to get a good read on him.

The computer on the table alerted and Abby quickly scanned through all the new information it had just processed. “Alright,” she announced, “I processed everything in the kitchen and the orange juice was the only thing that was dosed.”

“Because he knew I wouldn’t drink it,” Tony said quietly. “I don’t like orange juice.”

“Who?” Abby asked.

“David Marshall,” Fornell answered.

“He must’ve snuck into the house when I was over here talking to Chris yesterday,” Tony said. “He’s been stalking me.”

“I think he and Harding wagered one last bet,” Gibbs said told Tony.

“What do you mean?”

“I think they bet on who could get their boy to come back to them first,” Gibbs explained. “It can’t be a coincidence that they both showed back up at the same time, Tony.”

“That sounds like something they would do,” Tony said after thinking about it, “but Harding’s dead. Why’s Marshall sticking around?”

“To win the game,” Gibbs answered.

“That creep was in your house, Jethro, and he’s been in Tony’s apartment too,” Fornell said. “You’re both staying at a safe house till we catch him.”

Gibbs opened his mouth to argue but once again he was reminded of how easily he could’ve lost Tony. If Marshall got in and poisoned him, he could get in and harm Tony as well and Gibbs couldn’t let that happen. “Fine,” he agreed, although he wasn’t happy about it. It felt like Marshall was winning and at the moment, he was, but NCIS would have their turn.

“Do we have to?” Tony whispered, more to Gibbs than anyone else. He’d already been booted from his apartment and now they couldn’t stay at Gibbs’ house anymore. He hated the idea of leaving behind the warmth of a loving home filled with pleasant memories for a cold, empty safe house and even more than that he hated that it was all his fault.

Gibbs felt Tony’s subtle step closer to him and reached out for his hand. “Why don’t we go to a hotel instead?” he suggested. “It’ll be like a little vacation.”

“I just wanna catch this bastard so we can go home and move on with our lives,” Tony grumped dramatically.

“I know, Tony. I do too.” His ringing cell phone interrupted their conversation. “It’s Gibbs.”

_“Need you in the bullpen, Boss,”_ McGee said.

Moments later the entire group had moved up to the bullpen where Tim and Jimmy were excitedly waiting to brief them on the new development in the case. Jimmy was so excited he was literally bouncing on his heels and Tim was practically tripping over himself to get the words out fast enough.

“Palmer helped me figure out how Marshall could’ve gotten his hands on enough nicotine to poison you, Boss,” Tim said.

“It’s really not that difficult,” Jimmy interrupted. “You see, all you have to do is take the tobacco out of cigarettes and –”

“I don’t care,” Gibbs interrupted.

“The phone call from David Marshall to Tony to tell him Gibbs had been poisoned came from a pay phone on the west side,” Tim said. “Jimmy and I have been looking at surveillance footage from all the nearby stores and we found Marshall buying a ton of cigarettes at one of the convenience stores nearby.”

“He called and talked to the manager and guess what?” Jimmy interrupted.

“Marshall’s been renting the apartment above the store,” Tim said, taking over again. “He’s there now.”

“Let’s go!” Gibbs said.

“Jethro—” For a brief moment Fornell considered trying to talk Gibbs out of going and letting the rest of them handle it but he knew it was futile and would just waste time. “Never mind,” he said instead.

“Boss?” Tony asked hesitantly.

Gibbs stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Tony. He wasn’t used to having to run off into the heat of battle without his second right there beside him. “Tony, you know I would take you with me if I could,” he said regretfully, “but you gotta sit this one out.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said. He didn’t really want to see Marshall anyways. He couldn’t even handle hearing the man’s voice without being paralyzed with fear.

“Why don’t you and Abby go grab some dinner for the team,” Gibbs suggested, “whatever you guys want. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Just be careful,” Tony said, “please.”

“I promise,” Jethro replied.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

“I shoulda made you stay back at NCIS too, ya know,” Fornell said as he raced towards the west side of DC. He reached over and patted Gibbs’ chest only to have his hand swatted away.

“What’re you doing?” Gibbs asked, annoyed.

“Just making sure you’re wearing your vest,” Fornell said.

“No way am I letting you take down this bastard without me, Tobias,” Gibbs said defiantly.

“Just be careful,” Fornell replied. “That look on Tony’s face when he got to the hospital this morning? I don’t wanna see it again.”

Fornell came to a hard stop in front of the convenience story and he, Gibbs and McGee were out of the car in seconds. They hurried inside where the manager simply pointed them in the direction of the stairs. They were up the stairs in a matter of seconds, silently communicating with their hands when a two shotgun shells pelleted the door they were moments away from entering.

“I think he knows we’re here,” Fornell said, inspecting the shrapnel embedded in his Kevlar.  

“You hit?” Gibbs asked.

“Just my vest,” Fornell answered.

“McGee,” Gibbs said.

“On it,” McGee said. With his back against the door frame for leverage and added protection, he lifted his leg and kicked it back into the door, easily opening it.

“Don’t shoot!” Marshall yelled. “My gun’s jammed.”

Fornell poked his head around the corner and quickly pulled it back, fully expecting to be shot at but instead all they heard was the sound of Marshall’s shotgun falling to the floor.

“Put your hands up!” Gibbs yelled.

“They’re up,” Marshall swore.

Gibbs and Fornell narrowed their eyes at each other when they noticed his voice seemed to be getting farther away. All three agents, McGee on his knee with Gibbs standing over him and Fornell on the other side of the door frame poked their heads around the door frame, guns in hand, aimed and ready to fire.

Sure enough Marshall had his hands over his head but he was slowly backing away from them. The agents’ eyes widened when they realized what the man was doing.

“Don’t do it, Marshall!” Fornell urged.

The crooked smile that appeared on Marshall’s face made Gibbs want to throw up again. All he could think about was the fact that he was staring into the face of the monster who’d terrorized the one person left on the planet that meant the most to him.

“Tell Tony I love him,” Marshall said, “and that I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to reconnect. He was always my favorite.” The man made eye contact with each of the agents, saving Gibbs for last, before turning and throwing himself out of the living room window.

Tim was back on his feet and hurrying to the window in seconds while Gibbs and Fornell raced back down the stairs and out of the store only to find there was no need to hurry. David Marshall’s lifeless body was on top of their now busted up car and Gibbs couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of satisfaction at the way it had ended. Although he wouldn’t get the chance to say or do anything to the man, Tony wouldn’t have to face him either and that made it okay.

“Did things his way to the bitter end,” Fornell said as they stared at the body. “Went out on his own terms, by his own hand.”

“I hope it hurt,” Gibbs said, his voice stone cold.

**NCIS | NCIS | NCIS | NCIS**

Jethro’s back was starting to ache as he sat on the hard elevator floor with his back pressed against the cold wall but that didn’t matter. Not as much as the moment he was sharing with Tony. The elevator was about as private of an office as he had at NCIS and he’d wanted privacy when he told Tony about Marshall’s death. He hadn’t known what kind of reaction to expect. Tony dropping to his knees in relief, holding his head in his hands and just trying to process the words he was hearing turned into the two men sitting side by side with their backs against the wall, Jethro’s arm draped protectively around Tony, holding him close.

“You okay?” Jethro asked after several minutes of silence.

Tony simply nodded, too shocked to speak yet. The relief in his eyes and the way his body relaxed when he’d heard the news was proof of his relief but Jethro wouldn’t know what was going on in his head until he spoke.

“Do you wanna see him?” Jethro asked hesitantly. “Do you need to see him? For closure?”

“No,” Tony whispered, shaking his head. “If you say he’s dead, I know he’s dead.”

“He’s dead, Tony.”

“Jethro?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I need to get out of here. Will you take me… somewhere?”

“Anywhere,” Jethro replied. “Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere,” Tony answered, his face relaxing into a smile.

“Let’s go home.”

During the drive from the Navy Yard to Jethro’s house in Alexandria, Tony transformed from the unsure thirteen year old boy he’d been feeling like back into the confident NCIS Agent he was. David Marshall’s death allowed the return of the feeling of safety and security to Tony and helped him relax back into the person everyone knew and loved. Jethro watched the transformation with amusement and a small hint of fear. He loved that the life had returned to Tony’s eyes but he didn’t want him hiding the person he really was again. He was well aware of the fact that Tony would need help processing and healing and that it would be a long journey and he wanted nothing more than for the man he loved to experience the freedom that came with not having to hide.

“I’m thrilled to see you so happy, Tony,” Jethro said, tossing his keys onto the table right inside his front door, “but—”

“I have a lot of work to do,” Tony finished for him. The genuine smile on Tony’s face was all the reassurance Jethro needed. “I know that just because Marshall’s dead doesn’t mean everything’s fine again. I’m a work in progress.”

Jethro reached over and grabbed Tony’s hand and couldn’t resist tugging him closer and kissing him.

“I’ll be right back,” Tony said, disappearing up the stairs without any explanation.

Jethro waited curiously in the living room and was more than a little surprised when Tony returned with his duffle bag, packed and ready to go. He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on and which question to ask to figure it out. “Where ya goin’?” he finally settled on.

Tony looked down at his bag and shrugged his shoulders, his smile never faltering. “Case is over,” he replied, “threat’s gone. Home?”

Jethro swallowed hard, not expecting Tony to want to bolt so quickly. They hadn’t even had a chance to talk about everything that had changed over the past few days or what life would be like after the case. “Kinda nice havin’ you around,” he pointed out. “I was thinkin’… maybe you’d like to stay?” he said hesitantly. “We’ll take it one day at a time and see what happens. No pressure.”

The fear caused by Jethro’s suggestion caused the smile on Tony’s face to fade as he considered the offer. He hadn’t really been looking forward to leaving but he’d figured Jethro would be expecting him to return to his own place once they’d closed the case and he was no longer in protective custody. Neither of them could deny that things had changed though. They were learning to trust each other with the thing they both protected the most—their hearts and both were discovering it wasn’t as scary as they’d thought it would be. “I’d like that,” he replied, letting Jethro take his bag and toss it into the corner.

His world had been rocked and the future felt unsure now more than ever but having someone there to face the fears and uncertainties, someone who now knew all his deepest, darkest secrets and still wanted him gave him hope. He could handle one day at a time. _They_ could handle one day at a time.

All they had to do was stick together.

**The End**

 


End file.
